


Omiai

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Actually-a-Vongola Xanxus, Agender Sawada Tsunayoshi, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different Guardians, Arranged Marriage, Eiko is Takeshi's Mother, Flame Active Animal(s), Flame Active Character(s), Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Belphegor/Mukuro, Implied/Referenced Relationships(s): Hayato/Takeshi, Intersex Sawada Tsunayoshi, Other, POV Listed in Chapter Header, POV Multiple, Past Relationship(s): Dino/Superbi Squalo, Reborn trains Xanxus, Sawada Tsunayoshi Is Not Vongola Decimo, Squalo Being Squalo, Takeshi's Mother Lives, Vongola Decimo Xanxus (Reborn!), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 100,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: Omiai: (noun, uncountable)A Japanese custom in which unattached individuals are introduced to each other to consider the possibility of marriage.It only takes him two days to realise that it would be kinder to put a bullet in Tsunayoshi's head than try to turn them into Don Vongola, especially as, thanks to Mammon, he knows Xanxus still lives. (If Xanxus isn't Vongolaenoughhe knows someone who can fix that.)
Relationships: Dino/Sawada Tsunayoshi, Superbi Squalo/Xanxus, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 593
Kudos: 803





	1. Prologue - POV Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who needs it, a gloss of Japanese and Italian words used:
> 
> <https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Oj7Slij1YUZBtw9VVjQIn8ikSIuXeC5YkLSfQ3TweQM/edit?usp=sharing>

Observation is the key to both a successful hit, and to successful tutoring. Learning the mark’s personality and his weaknesses, a student’s strengths and motivations. Both are important. 

He sighs and burns Iemitsu’s briefing notes after the first day spent watching his family. Tsunayoshi is fifteen, androgynous, delicate and painfully shy; adores cooking and drawing, and during the week he’s watching the household has attended four separate medical appointments with a variety of specialists. 

He steals the medical notes shamelessly, and once he’s understood what he’s read - he has to fax some of the documents to Verde for a second opinion - he throws an epic tantrum, tears up his lesson plans and checks his contract _thoroughly_. 

There’s a loophole in it big enough to float Mafia Island through, and he wonders if Timo realises just how badly he screwed up writing this contract. Not specifying the heir intended by _name_ has to be unintentional, but he’s willing to take thorough advantage. Now, who did he trust to hide the broken little Sky in front of him and treat him well, especially given his discoveries?

Leon snickers and changes form, already ringing, and he recognises the number. 

“Villa Cavallone.”

“Put me through to pipsqueak-Dino, Romario. I found him a treat, but we’ll need to make arrangements for its delivery.”

“Does this involve bears? Or anything that’s going to make the Boss Rage? He’s getting Cloudy again; the Superbi have been pressing his buttons for some reason.” He’s not surprised; if Timo was willing to resort to setting him on Iemitsu’s son there was something going on he hasn’t been informed of.

“No bears. He’ll genuinely like this treat, I think, and it’ll soothe several of your anxieties as well.” The line clicks, and he smiles. Romario was going to freak at least initially, especially as he was going to make sure things went smoothly, but he really would be happier once the nursery started to fill up.

“Reborn! What are you up to? Romario lost track of you last week -”

“Reconnaissance on a new contract, pipsqueak-Dino. But that isn’t why I’m calling; I need to call in one of those favours you owe me.” Dino hisses, and he bites the inside of his cheek. “I have someone I need hidden. They need a whole new identity, and I think they would fill a certain vacant post that Romario’s been urging you to fill _perfectly_. Five-foot nothing, big amber eyes, androgynous -“

“ _Reborn_.” 

“- capable of carrying heirs for you, and very much a Yamato Nadeshiko.” He hears Dino headdesk and grins. “If I don’t send them to you, Dino, I’m going to have to put a bullet in their brain; the other options are all far too cruel for my tastes.”

“I’ll send someone within the next day or so. Can you organise a passport for them?”

“Don’t send any of your known men for them, Dino; I’m trying to engineer a disappearance not an abduction. Have your courier meet us at Tokyo International for the direct departure to Milan in two days; I doubt he’ll miss us. And yes. I’ll have documents for your Donna, even if it will take a few more favours.” 

“Would an independent work?”

“One of the younger ones who can still fly without being suspicious.” He knows who he’d choose; it’d be interesting to see if Dino agreed. His former student hums thoughtfully. “And as far as everyone’s concerned, you met your treat in Tokyo, pipsqueak-Dino, and swept _them_ off their feet. The delay from your most recent trip can be explained by you courting them properly in the Japanese fashion. They’re also younger than their documents will suggest, albeit legal, so be _gentle_.”

“ _Reborn_.” He ends the call before his former student can protest any further and then slips out of the tree he’s been perched in and wanders out into the neighbourhood in search of one of the pompadoured teens; finding one, he plasters on his best kawaii smile and tugs their pant leg. The teen scoops him up and Leon shifts.

“I need to speak to your iinchō, ragazzo. He and I have some negotiating to do.” He has to give the teen credit; he doesn’t flinch despite having a handgun pressed to his temple.

“Hai.” He presses Leon more firmly to the teen’s temple. “Hibari-sama is attending to business at Nami-koko, Taiyō-sama. May this one escort you?”

“Try anything Stupid and I’ll gut you and use your intestines to strangle your iinchō.” The teen smiles, showing his teeth. “And summon someone to cover your duties; my charge is just as vulnerable as your iinchō thinks he is.” 

“Hai. This one has already summoned the reserve guards, Taiyō-sama; Hibari-sama says the koneko-tan tries, but he attracts trouble, so we watch over him.” He hums thoughtfully, Leon sliding back out of his hand. The teen sighs in relief, shifting him in his grip, and then lopes off towards the larger of the two school complexes.

Hibari Kyōya is his grandfather’s clone, save for the Flame flaring in his eyes. He even has his strength, and he wonders whether he will be one of those for whom the Man in the Iron Hat will come when they’ve burnt out. “I would have thought grandfather would have informed you that this town was out of bounds, Taiyō no Reborn. It has been since I fought him to a draw at fourteen and awoke my Flames.”

“That message did not make it as far as Italy, Nippon no Kumo.” Kyōya scowls at him, and he makes a quick calculation; unless he’s missing something he needs to stay on the young Cloud’s better side. “If it had, I would have approached the contract I am seeking to fulfill in a … different fashion.”

“You have been prowling around the small animal’s residence; the little Sky is under my protection.” Cloud Flames flicker around the boy’s fingers, glittering, flashes of Mist weaving through the stronger Flame.

“Yet not your Sky, ne?”

“Indeed.” The Cloud taps his Flame-covered fingers on the desk. “Your contract is clearly not to kill the small animal. Which of the clans does he belong to?”

“Technically, the Vongola. The line he descends begins with Sawada Ieyasu -“

“- Hn. Sawada Ieyasu. Asari Ugetsu added him to his koseki during the first Tokugawa Shogunate, which is why he chose that name. If you are seeking him for any reason, you will also need to approach his clan head.”

“ _Clan head_.”

“Asari no Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. You would know him better as Autumn Rain.” He blinks. Autumn Rain was notorious, but hadn’t been seen in Italy for almost a decade. “Iemitsu Sawada is not a Japanese national; he was added to Nana’s ie, and therefore made himself and his children subject to Asari no Tsuyoshi’s orders.”

 _Shit_. Autumn Rain possessed a notorious Sky-killing blade, one that had accounted for at least one Sky Arcobaleno. He hadn’t worked that into his calculations.

“So what are you here for, Taiyō no Reborn?”

“Timo contracted me to tutor his heir, and gave me Tsunayoshi’s file.” Kyōya hisses, and the desk creaks under his hands. “I wish to remove Tsunayoshi from a situation that will rapidly become untenable.”

“Hn. I could solve this problem by allowing Asari no Tsuyoshi to kill you.”

He twitches, and the Cloud’s lips curve into something that most decidedly _isn’t_ a smile. “My death or refusal of the contract will not solve the situation. Timo is desperate; he will send others who will break Tsunayoshi to his specifications.”

“And your plan?”

“I have tutored students before. One of them is one of the few people who can stand up to Iemitsu and provide Tsunayoshi with a reasonable standard of living. Dino is loyal, affectionate and a Cloudy Sky who needs a Donna. From what I’ve seen, Tsunayoshi would be very much his type, and would thrive under his care.” The desk cracks under the Cloud’s fingers. “Once they are safe, I will tutor Timo’s other potential heir, and I would like you to consider him as a Sky.”

“Hn. Presumptuous. Your plan _may_ work, but I leave you to explain it to his clan head your wish to engage in omiai.” The Cloud flicks his hand producing a fan. “And bring him to me in six months; I will make the decision as to whether to bite him - or not - then.” The teen makes it clear that the conversation is more or less done. “Kusakabe-kun will escort you to Asari no Tsuyoshi’s territory.”

“Hai. Follow me, Taiyō no Reborn; Yamamoto-sama can normally be found in his restaurant, Takesushi, at this time of day. Yamamoto-san attended all of his scheduled classes today before departing for a kendo match in Tokyo; his otousan distracts himself on match days by showing off for his customers.” His escort is tall - more than six foot - with a pompadour, and moves unforgivingly quickly through the school compound, slipping out through a side door and into a back street. 

Takesushi is a small, well kept sushi bar, with seats for half a dozen at the bar and booths for perhaps another two dozen patrons; from the feel of the space, there were also two private rooms at the back of the restaurant, both featuring extensive Flame workings. 

“Irasshaimase, Arcobaleno-sama. Business or pleasure?” The greeter is a tall female Lightning, with a limp and several missing fingers, with a smile and a blade across her back that he can only see because the pacifier protects itself.

“Business, unfortunately, Hanagumori no Tsubame.“

“Ara. Has Arcobaleno-sama warned his Sky that he’s suffering from Stupidity?”

“If he was here to assassinate either yourself or your husband, Eiko-hime, Kyōya-sama -“

“Maa, maa. So what flavour of business then, Taiyō no Arcobaleno? Am I seating you at the bar with my husband, or in a private room for a meeting?”

“I’m here to play nakōdo, Eiko-hime.” Her fingers curl, Mist prostheses shimmering into existence and the blade on her back vibrating with vindictive hunger.

“If a Sky - other than my oi-chan - wishes to court my musuko to be either their Lightning or Rain, they will need to do so themselves, Taiyō no Arcobaleno.”

“Ah, no. I need to talk to Tsuyoshi in his role as Sawada Nana’s Clan Head, Eiko-hime.” The Lightning pulls a face and gestures at the bar. 

“Take a seat at the bar, Taiyō no Arcobaleno, and push your Flames into the raised carvings; you’ll find it easy to identify which one. Providing neither you nor my husband get too excitable, it will keep your conversation private. Kusakabe-kun, if you return in an hour, I will have bento for yourself and Hibari-kun waiting.” He’s amused that the unspoken rider to Eiko’s last sentence is ‘and probably this idiot’s corpse for disposal’; she’s adorable. If he and the others didn’t complicate bonding for Aria, he’d be tempted to introduce them.

The barstools are more cunningly designed than he’d realised; clearly, either Fon snuck into Namimori more often than Kyōya preferred, or there was someone else diminutive who regularly sat at the bar rather than in a booth. He settles onto the stool, and it reshapes itself for him subtly even as he presses what Sun Flames he can access into the indicated carving; the Mist working that springs to life is comprehensive. He can barely hear the person sat next to him, despite the active conversation being conducted with the itamae; in fact, the working successful fuzzes his own perception enough that he doesn’t realise that the itamae _is_ Autumn Rain until the man addresses him directly.

“So to what do I owe the _honor_ of a visit from an Arcobaleno, Taiyō-san?”

“Does Iemitsu even realise you’re his Clan Head, Tsuyoshi-san?”

“Maa, maa. I doubt he does; he certainly doesn’t realise he should have been paying tribute for the last fifteen years, Taiyō-san. But Nana-chan didn’t realise that she needed to until Tsu-chan hit puberty and needed some help with the process; she made up for things since then, including by letting me _be_ Tsu-chan’s ji-san.” Autumn Rain’s hands flash through the preparation of several plates of sushi, placing two of the three in front of other customers and the third in front of him with a smile.

He knows better than to refuse it, given he’s sat _at_ the bar and at least Tsuyoshi didn’t favour poison? Leon slides down his arm and shifts into hashi, much to the man’s amusement as he exchanged words with the other customers at the bar.

“Iemitsu nominated Tsunayoshi as his choice to inherit, Tsuyoshi-san.” The Rain snarls, turning to retrieve something from a storage box. “Before you say anything, I do not agree with his decision, but I am contracted to train Timo’s heir; the only way to prevent Tsunayoshi from being Timo’s heir is for them to make one of the binding oaths that will eliminate them from the line of inheritance. Given what I’ve observed, I believe the simplest way to accomplish this will be for them to marry my former student; he has enough clout to protect Tsunayoshi, and he will cherish them.”

“I could kill you, Iemitsu and Timoteo; it would be remarkably easy.” Another plate of sushi, delicate slivers of pale fish arranged in a chrysanthemum pattern, is placed in front of him. “I doubt you could simultaneously heal tetrodotoxin poisoning _and_ decapitation, Taiyō no Arcobaleno.”

He takes a sliver of the fugu, and savours the delicate fish, appreciating the tingling sensation - even as the other two customers almost fall off their stools in surprise at what they’ve just been served - and Tsuyoshi inclines his head to him. “And the world and your Family would pay the price, Autumn Rain. My suggestion would be less costly _and_ would likely result in your Tsu-chan being well-loved and happy by one of the most powerful Skies in the World.”

“If they ever come to me in tears, wishing to be free of their husband, Taiyō no Arcobaleno, I will kill you and him. Understood?”

“Is that your blessing?”

“As close as you’re going to get, Taiyō no Arcobaleno. I will make the appropriate entries into our ie, and, should Tsu-chan wish, will sponsor the creation of a new clan ie on the birth of their first child.” Tsuyoshi’s lips curve, and he recognises the threat in the very generous offer; not that he’s worried about his former student’s ability to make Tsunayoshi an excellent Don and husband.

As a gesture of trust, he stays, finishing the beautifully arranged plate of fugu and two more plates of tamago nigiri and drinking sake with Tsuyoshi. When Eiko slips into the bubble represented by the working - he blinks, realising that she was as much a Mist as a Lightning, which makes her Name, Hanagumori no Tsubame, even more appropriate - she seems almost disappointed that he’s not dead.

“Anata -“

“No. I’ll pull the scroll from the Clan Histories that explains why later, koibito.”

“Ara. I promised Tetsu-kun bento for himself and Kyōya-kun.” Tsuyoshi shakes his head and turns away from the bar to retrieve something; he turns back with two bento wrapped in pretty furoshiki. “Why am I not surprised you’d already prepared them, anata?”

“Because you know me, koibito. Has our silly musuko sent you an update on his competition?”

“He won it, though he did have to work to keep his Flames sufficiently under wraps; he’s getting much closer to being Useful. He’s on his way back now.”

“Good.” He slides down off his stool and stretches. “Tsu-chan’s trousseau will be waiting at the airport; I assume you need their passport?”

“It would make things simpler, providing it’s not in the name of Sawada Tsunayoshi, Tsuyoshi-san.”

“As that’s not their name within the Asari ie, why would their passport be in that name?” He flicks his fingers in acknowledgment. “I presume that your former student will provide the tickets?”

“And an escort. A young independent, probably Smoking Bomb, given his Japanese ancestry and the fact that we’ve both been assessing him as a potential Guardian. Not that either of us have told him that.”

“Have your former student put Tsu-chan’s ticket in the name Asari Kizuna; it’s the name on the passport I have in my safe for them.” 

“Mmhmm. Am I informing Tsunayoshi of their match, or will you?”

“ _Anata_.”

“Yes, koibito?”

“Have you just accepted a match for our Kizuna? From _him_?!” 

“As a least worst option, koibito, and plenty of protections for our pretty little mei-chan. And you can join us for breakfast, Taiyō no Arcobaleno; we will explain to them then. Eight AM here.”

“Anata, your apprentice is taking over for the evening. We’re going to have a _discussion_ about this.”

“Maa, maa. If you wanted to play, all you had to do was ask, Tsubame-koi.” He snickers and slips away while Eiko’s still distracted by her husband. Leon slips back into his hand, form shifting, and he grumbles at his companion, but answers the call, not surprised when Dino informs him that Smoking Bomb will be at Tokyo International in just over eighteen hours, and he can hear his former student scribbling down the necessary details for the airline. 

He finishes with Kizuna’s birthdate, and Dino makes a squeaky sound. “Reborn, that’s _this_ week. If they’re going to be my Donna, I need to get them something that they’ll _like_!” He rolls his eyes, amused by Dino’s flail.

“They’ll be in a new place, pipsqueak-Dino. Find them something to keep them company when you can’t. Or ask Aria; it’ll make her laugh, but she’ll probably come up with a suggestion.” The line clicks and goes dead and he shakes his head. Teasing Dino was far too fun now he’d rebuilt the kid’s self-confidence.

That left two more errands before he was in a position to crash; check that the guard on the Sawada house was adequate, and see if Lal Mirch could fill in some of the gaps in her idiot Boss’s grossly inadequate files, preferably including his motivations, and which head baka-Mitsu was attempting to think with.


	2. Breakfast - POV Kyōya

“Behave, itoko-kun.”

“Maa, maa. Otousama doesn’t deserve me behaving, senpai. He’s accepted a stranger request for Tsu-neko to be his student’s _wife_.”

“Hn. It is within Tsuyoshi-sama’s rights to arrange a marriage for the little animal, and it is an _appropriate_ marriage, itoko-kun; the offered groom is an Active Sky. The Taiyō no Arcobaleno, unfortunately, isn’t lying; even if he was, killing the Arcobaleno is _expensive_ , itoko-kun. Too expensive for the little animal to be willing to allow us to pay the cost.”

“Haa?”

“Hn. Being forced to take on jii-sama’s role, itoko-kun. And jii-sama would not survive us inheriting the role.” His younger cousin grumbles, and digs in his bedroom drawers, looking for clothes. “Tsuyoshi-sama threatened jii-sama’s colleague and Tsu-neko’s proposed husband, itoko-kun. Tsu flies this afternoon, when an Italian carnivore will arrive to escort him.”

“That soon?!”

“And _that_ is why I snuck in here, itoko-kun. So you could get over it before breakfast and be in a position to help manage Nana-chan and Tsu-neko, rather than trying to do your best impression of your otousan.” Takeshi continues to grumble, shedding his sleep yukata and twisting a long strip of cloth around himself; he raises an eyebrow as the swordsman pulls on a juban and hakama over the traditional underlayer. He’s sorely tempted to laugh; his little cousin’s mood is so easy to read in his clothing. “Be good, itoko-kun and I will see if I can bite your Flames into existence.”

“ _Senpai_.” He hands his cousin his haori, and Takeshi shrugs it on. “Shigure Kintoki’s _waiting_ for me to become Useful. Don’t tease.”

“You make it too easy, itoko-kun.” Hs own Flames dance around his fingers. “The Taiyō no Arcobaleno asked me to consider the Sky he will be training, Takeshi-kun. If it is who I think it is, I will be Kumo-no-Nippon and Kumo-no-Itaria; it will allow me the power do as I wish. You should stay with Tsu-neko, itoko-kun, to keep him safe.”

“It would have been easier though, to stay under the radar, and with Tsu-neko, ne?”

“Hn. The Taiyō no Arcobaleno came to make our Tsu-neko the Tenjō no Tenjō, itoko-kun. It would kill them to be forced into that mould, would it not?” 

Takeshi hmphs and sighs, lifting a sword down from where it was racked on the wall with a number of other blades. He permits himself a smile at the choice of blade; it was one the hardened ones that would take multiple blows from his tonfa. “It would. But that doesn’t mean that Tsu-neko marrying is a _good_ thing.”

“It’s the least worst choice, itoko-kun; if Cavallone-sama is good enough for our Tsu-neko, you’ll probably slide neatly into his Harmony.” His cousin mumbles something rude, but he lets it slide in favour of checking for messages from Tetsuya. “If you’re feeling more level, itoko-kun, our koneko needs waking up; there’s no sign of life at Nana-chan’s. She must have forgotten to set the earlier alarm.”

“Tsu-neko is going to squeak when we come through their window.”

“Hn. Haha-ue sent them a new coat; it should stall some of their protests.” His cousin laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s not why they’ll squeak, but they’ll probably appreciate the new coat. It’s that Nana-obasan’s getting forgetful again.”

“Hn. I checked Nami-chuu’s record; Nana-chan has never been very good at memorising things. She learned the bare minimum number of kanji to graduate.” His cousin inclines his head, and straps his sword in its saya across his back. “Keep up.”

He leads his itoko-kun on a merry chase - sticking to predominantly ground levels, his cousin’s Flames perpetually teetering on the edge of Activating properly, but not there _yet_ , to the small house that Nana-chan resolutely refused to move out of. (Perhaps when Tsu-neko had gone to their husband’s home, she could be persuaded to move out of it; he had an idea that his haha-ue would probably sigh at him for.) And bounces up onto the little animal’s balcony, prying the window open easily, and ducking the bullet.

“Hiiieee! Kyō-nii, what did I say about coming in through my window?!”

“Hn.”

“I told you they would squeak, senpai.”

“_Takeshi-nii_. Both of you?!”

“Itō-kun said your lights were all still off. Your okaasan forgot that there’s a ‘family’ breakfast this morning, despite being told about it last night.”

“And that’s enough to have the two of you thinking my bedroom window is a _good_ way to wake me up? You’re the one that gave me the pistol and taught me to shoot, Kyō-nii!”

“Hn. If I can’t dodge your bullets, Tsu-neko, I deserve to be shot.”

“… that doesn’t mean I _want_ to be the one that shoots you for being Stupid, Kyō-nii. And yeah, kaa-chan’s slipping. I was going to ask you today if you could get her an appointment with that specialist, again. Whatever the hell it is _he_ did is pernicious.”

“And _he’s_ part of the reason for the breakfast, Tsu-neko. His day job and boastfulness is coming back to bite you.” The little animal buries their head in the pillow and _screams_. “Tsuyoshi-ji wants to tell you about the solution, Tsu-neko. It’s not perfect, but it should work according to jii-sama and haha-ue.”

“But ojisama doesn’t think I’ll like the solution does he?”

“It’s a very _political_ solution, Tsu-neko.” The little animal grumbles, makes the pistol safe, and slides it back into the holster at the head of the bed before pushing their blankets off. Fortunately for everyone, they’d chosen a full length sleeping yukata the previous night. He pulls out the new coat his haha-ue had sent him when he’d told her what was happening, and wraps the little animal in it, scoops them up, and jumps back out of the window, making the little animal scowl at him and leaving his cousin swearing. 

Hopefully his itoko-kun would remember to get Nana up, too, though her attendance at the breakfast was more about being polite than anything else - she’d surrendered the ability to make decisions to Tsuyoshi when Tsu-neko had needed specialist medical treatment, as he was in a better position to advocate for the little animal only receiving the surgery they _needed_ rather than all of the surgeries that the doctors wanted them to have - and if she slept in, someone would just have to explain later.

Without his cousin slowing him down, he races across the roofs with the little animal in his arms, and deposits them in their bedroom in the Asari compound. Eiko-hime gives him a wolfish smile and then shoos them out and he goes without a protest, not wanting to deal with the female carnivore’s fussing at the little animal. 

He spends the next half an hour perched on top of one of the building roofs, centring himself; despite everything he’d implied to his itoko, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was happy with his ojisama’s plan. He’d always thought that he and his itoko would share a Sky, and it would likely be their Tsu-neko. But their Tsu-neko has never gone truly Active and the occasional wisps he caught no longer attracted him, their Flame too soft to hold him. (He still wanted to protect them, but he didn’t want to drift in their Sky anymore.)

“Are you going to join us for breakfast, Kyōya-kun?” Eiko-hime’s Flames flare at him, carrying her words, and he sighs, slipping off the roof. “I’m not happy either, Kyōya-kun. I’d hoped -“

“Hn.” Eiko sighs. 

“Takeshi’s going to end up following them, isn’t he. How close to completing his high school graduation requirements is he, Kyōya-kun?” 

“Another year, Eiko-hime. Less if he works hard, and he will if you make it a requirement before he can follow Tsu-neko to Italy.” She grumbles and cinches her obi tighter, waving an arm in the direction of the private dining room; he stretches his senses, and has to hide a snarl when he feels both his jii-sama _and_ his wretched colleague already present. “Did Tsuyoshi-sama really have to invite ojiisama?”

“For Tsu-neko’s sake, yes. He’s in the best position to confirm or deny the story that the Taiyō no Arcobaleno has been weaving for us. You reached out to him, after all, Kyōya-kun.”

“Hn.” He slips into the room, lips curving into a smile that’s wicked as he sees their Tsu-neko - _very_ much dressed as the Asari-hime - sat demurely in seiza next to Tsuyoshi-sama. He lays his tonfa on the low side table alongside the two Arcobaleno’s companions, and two of the three Asari blades, before taking his seat as far from his jii-sama as humanly possible.

“… should I be referring to you as Tsunayoshi-chan?” Tsu-neko smiles, lips bright red, a startling slash of colour that somehow isn’t friendly; he suspects the response is because of Reborn’s choice to use the name their father gave them to their face.

“No. Ji-sama and ba-sama use Tsu-chan, and my nii-sans use Tsu-neko. I find both overly familiar from non-clan members; of all of the available options I would prefer Tsuna-san from you, Arcobaleno-san.”

“May I still call you Tsuna-chan, little one? I understand if not.” The little animal’s lips curve into a sweeter smile as they nod at his jii-sama.

“So, my nii-sans tell me that otousama’s job has finally come back to bite us, Arcobaleno-san.” He smiles as the Sun squirms; his cousin helps his mother to bring in the breakfast, before settling next to their Tsu-neko. “He is one of the wakagashira of the ninth generation of the Vongola, ne?”

The Sun Arcobaleno’s eyes flick to his grandfather and to Tsuyoshi-sama and he takes mercy on the cursed man. “I told them, Taiyō no Reborn. When I insisted that they learn to shoot.” He smiles, wolfishly. “They wanted to know why my men kept having to drag corpses away from their house.”

“Ara, that’s not quite what I said, nii-san.” His cousin hides a smile.

“He is the head of the Consulenza Esterna della Famiglia; more importantly in this instance, he is a member of the family by blood -“

“But Nana is the one descended from Ieyasu -“

“I assume that he descended from one of the other Vongola Dons, Tsu-chan; Hibari-sama and I verified every entry into the Asari koseki when we regularised your entry, and there are no unaccounted for descendants.”

“Quite. He also shows several signs of being Vongola; he may have sought out Nana to ensure a stronger claim for any of his children, given that while having joined the Consulenza Esterna della Famiglia excludes him from heading the tenth generation, his children may inherit -“

“- the part that Reborn is dancing around, Tsuna-chan, is that the ninth generation head, your father’s Boss, has lost three of his four children to enemy action - enemies your father should have alerted him to - whilst the remaining child has been out of sight for the best part of ten years. It is possible that your father is planning a coup -“

Tsu-neko facepalms. “Tsuyoshi-jisama, I think kaa-chan needs a divorce. And to move.”

“Agreed. Eiko and I hope she’ll agree this time, given the rest of the plan.” Tsu-neko makes a ‘and’ gesture. “This is Reborn’s plan, Tsu-chan. We haven’t come up with a better one.”

“My contract is to train the tenth generation’s Boss, Tsuna-san.” He’s impressed that the cursed Sun remembers the correct suffix; he knows how old he is. “You are not named specifically. There have been rumours about the other candidate’s legitimacy; enough that many would think you are the only candidate. Those rumours have not been confirmed, and he has an acknowledged bond to one of our colleagues. If you can be safely hidden away -“

“- then you can train up the other candidate.” He narrows his eyes at the cursed Sun as he puts the pieces together.

“Precisely. To force you to be Don Vongola, especially with your uh, issues, Tsuna-san, would be cruel. If I’m being brutally honest, I actually considered a mercy killing.” His tonfa vibrate where they resting on the side as his hands clench. “I said _considered_ , Kyōya-kun. I came up with a different solution. My most recent student is Dino Cavallone, an Active Sky. He’s strong enough to stand up to Iemitsu, and in need of a wife, preferably sky-natured, given the covenants and entailments involved. He would treat you well, Tsuna-chan.”

Tsu-neko closes their eyes. “How long was he your student, Taiyō-sama?”

“A decade, on and off, Tsuna-san. From twelve to twenty-two. He was the youngest son and would have preferred to be a civilian; he has your older nii-san’s Flame in addition to being a Sky. His father contacted me when he was dying; he would have preferred not to force the Family on Dino, but too many people depended on the entailments, contracts and Flames that would have dissipated if he’d been permitted to escape. His real passion is his horses.” 

“Do you consider Taiyō-sama a reasonable judge of character, Fon-jiisama?”

“Rarely. But in this case he’s almost certainly right; Dino Cavallone would treat you well, Tsuna-chan. He’s a good man, adored by his Family. Perhaps most telling, his horses are pampered, beautiful, well-loved and with Dying Will Flames of their own.” The little animal sits up at the mention of horses, and he smiles.

“I will have someone pack your saddle, Tsu-neko.”

“Does he have a full set of Elements?”

“No. I encouraged him to be choosy as his Family’s nature - the word doesn’t translate well? - only requires the Sky heading the Family to be Active and acceptable to the herds. He has Family members willing to stand in, and supports around a hundred minor bonds including several minor Skies, but he’s only filled three of the primary positions.” His cousin settles back on his heels, content for the moment; he’s half surprised he hasn’t asked which positions were vacant.

“And his position outside the Ukiyo?” The question from Eiko-hime confuses him slightly.

“Prior to 1946, they were a noble Family who straddled both worlds because of their Flames and a certain amount inclination towards extra-legal mischief; you may, as a result find yourself being called Dino’s Contessa, though the title will only be a courtesy one. Comparatively speaking they engage in very little overtly criminal activity, though that’s a more recent set of choices made by Dino himself.”

“What methods has he used to replace the funding from more criminal enterprises?”

“A number of Storms went Active during his training.” Reborn looks more than a little smug, and he suspects that the little troll was responsible for those Activations. “As well as two Clouds. While they may not be his Guardians, they have no desire to leave the Cavallone and have banded together to operate a truly effective Recycling Centre, which among other things provides rare elements to the electronics manufacturer Dino owns.” That was effective; he’d have to see if any of his men were willing to consider something like that.

“This is all surprisingly altruistic given what I know of you.” 

“Given how zen Tsuna-san is, my Dying Will bullets wouldn’t work.” The Sun Arcobaleno pauses, and eyes them all warily. “Without them, I can’t break the Seal I suspect Timo placed; at least not without traumatising everyone involved. It’s why I considered giving them mercy.” Tsuyoshi-sama hisses, and Eiko-hime’s Flames crackle viciously, coursing over the table, but the cursed Sun continues. “It is possible that childbirth may do the trick; supposedly far more women used to go Active before the advent of hospital births, but that risk is up to Tsuna-san to take.”

“My father knows that too, doesn’t he?”

“I would be surprised if he didn’t; he had female personnel in his agency, Tsuna-san.” 

The little animal shudders delicately. “I think I’d prefer to build an advantageous marriage with a man who sounds like he should make me a reasonable match, Tsuyoshi-jisama. But do we need to move so quickly?”

“Timo knows I left Italy a week ago, Tsuna-san. He is expecting his first report soon, and may send one of his Elements, or your father or his protégé - your half-sibling - to investigate. I would rather have you safely out of here and your mother receiving the treatment I suspect she needs, preferably while out of sight when that happens.”

“Maa, maa; why couldn’t we just kill them like the others we’ve taken care of when they come for Tsu-neko?”

“They’re older and a portion of the support system for the pacifiers, Yamamoto-kun. Add in that two of the possible choices are an Active, combat-trained Sky and one of our other colleagues and doing so may get more complicated.” His jii-san sips from his tea bowl.

“Add in that Basil is showing signs of having both Hyper Intuition and a natural capacity for Hyper Dying Will Mode, and Fon is right, ragazzo; you’d struggle.” He has a disturbing thought and shudders. Takeshi eyes him, and he unfolds himself from seiza.

“I think, given we’ve heard Tsu-neko’s choice and they seem happy with it, my itoko and I are going to have a sparring match before class, Tsuyoshi-jisama.” Tsuyoshi inclines his head.

“Try not to destroy anything harder to replace than the rear training field, oi-kun. And try to leave Takeshi-kun in one piece; Eiko and I need to talk to him later about our requirements for following Tsu-chan -”

Takeshi stands, too, turning to retrieve his blade and his tonfa. As they leave the room, he hears the little animal ask Tsuyoshi-sama a question. “Why would Takeshi-nii want to follow me, ojisama?”


	3. Escort Mission - POV Hayato

“Smoking Bomb?” He hisses, the cigarette in his mouth sparking to life as he prepares to fight whoever it is who has snuck up on him. “Shhh, calm down. I just didn’t want to use your deadname; I have a courier job for you. You have a Japanese passport, right?”

He turns carefully, holding his hands in the open position so that the Sky’s Guardians could see that he hadn’t summoned some of his explosives. He’s really fucking curious as to how the damn Horse found out about his passport; he’s worked damn hard to keep that identity ’clean’. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

“Reborn asked me to do him a favour and told me where to start.” He groans, burying his head in his hands and Cavallone laughs sympathetically. “Yeah. He’s a nightmare even when he’s on your side. But he potentially needed one or more of your non-explosive skill sets and his new contract meant he couldn’t do the research himself.”

“Che. As long as your Mist is fucking competent, we can talk. Where’s the fucking leak?”

“Reborn gave me Shamal, and Shamal was the one who told me about his half-sister, once I’d twisted his arm, and the one who registered your birth with the Japanese consulate. From there I tracked down your application for the passport.” He whines. “I reburied what I found; consider it a freebie. Especially since I need your services.”

“You said. What the fuck do you need a half-gaijin independent for? What the fuck does an Arcobaleno need one for?”

“You’d have to ask Reborn that. But in my case, I need you to escort my spouse to Italy and keep their secrets, even after the job’s done.”

“Mutually Assured Fucking Destruction, then?”

“Something like that. They’re a Japanese national, and have never travelled internationally. They need an escort and translator; you’re known to speak fluent Japanese, which once I found out about your mother made more sense.“

They. Why would the Cavallone be using a gender-neutral pronoun? Everyone and his dog knew the Bucking Horse was bisexual thanks to the Sun Arcobaleno’s fucking bullets, but it was equally well known that he had no heirs close enough to inherit all the Cavallone’s entailed shit - like the herds they guarded - without years of arguments with the fucking government. There was no way the Sky’s Family would let him marry a man. Would they?

And why the fuck wasn’t the Sky in front of him collecting their spouse himself?

Cavallone smiles ruefully, eyes pale orange. “Thanks to my erstwhile former tutor, our timelines have rather sped up. And, thanks to his antics, I need to spend the next few days being very visible and _very_ political; if I’m lucky I’ll be in a position to meet you in Milan. If not Bono will meet you in Palermo.”

Fucking sky intuition bullshit. “€10.000. And I travel business class both directions. I’ll be spending twenty-four hours plus in the air after all.”

“Done. You’re on the mid-afternoon direct flight from Milan, today.” Dino tosses him a small travel wallet, ostentatiously decorated with the Cavallone’s official crest. “There’s a couple of prepaid visa cards in there, along with an entry card for the best first-class lounge in Tokyo and you and Kizuna’s tickets and boarding passes.” He blinks almost stupidly at the Sky in front of him. “Bono will get you to Palermo; make a list of what you’ll need and there’ll be a carry-on waiting for you in Milan. Consider it a gratuity.” Sky Flames wrap around him warm and welcoming, a whisper of a possibility but he shoves them away; he didn’t need that sort of temptation when all Cavallone was trying to do was make sure he didn’t change his mind.

Cavallone looks almost disappointed, but makes an indication to one of his men. “Follow me, master Gokudera -” he blinks, squirming a little with pleasure and pride at hearing his maternal surname used to address him. He’s led to a low slung, dark-coloured sports car, and he has another moment of surprise as the man reveals a second Cavallone secret. “- please don’t fight the Mist Flames.” 

The journey to Palermo is nauseatingly fast; he’s willing to bet that they hit the car’s top speed on the winding, twisting road up to the airport and they’ve phased through several of them, too. He finishes the requested list just as they screech to a halt in front of the international terminal. “It’s just as well I carry my passport -”

“- the Boss asked Shamal what you kept in the bracers you use.” He makes a grumpy sound. “And I checked your apartment before Dino bearded you at your breakfast; I put some extra traps up tuned to your Flames’ signatures.” 

“Che. I’m going to blow his fucking car up.”

“Don’t be too hard on the pervert, Gokudera. The Boss pulled all the stops out and had him as high as a kite on his Flames and paid him off with six months of VIP access to one of our strip clubs.”

“Fucking hell is that all?” He pinches his nose. “He’ll be lucky if he’s not in the fucking car when I blow it up.” He checks the list and then hands it over. “Here’s the list Cavallone wanted.”

Bono flicks his eyes over it measuringly. “What size on the boxers and the shirt? Preferred brand?” He hmphs, and takes back the list to scribble some measurements next to the relevant items and then scowls and adds a Nintendo DS Lite and a couple of games; he’d been meaning to buy them anyway. “Anything you need to leave with us, given you’re flying internationally?”

“Nah. Shamal’s a shitty fucking human being, but a fucking good Mist, and I’ve been dabbling in ceramics.” He slides out of the car, stretching and pulling his passport and the wallet Cavallone had handed him out of the bracer he’d shoved it in. Once he’s palmed them, he slams the door on the sports car and Bono peels out of the drop off zone.

He checks the outbound ticket for which airline, and speeds through the check-in process. He doesn’t even get looked at twice; benefits of flying on the ‘good’ Don’s dime, probably. He’s still cutting it fucking close; he barely had time to grab a soft drink and a couple of magazines to read before he’s being called for boarding.

Business-class makes things more tolerable. He’s got actual legroom and no-one pressed against him and he chills out, flicking through the magazines and making a single purchase from the aircrew, entirely justifiable as far as he’s concerned; a set of noise-cancelling headphones so he can pretend he’s sane when he finally lands in Tokyo. (His iPod’s in his bracer, but his normal headphones aren’t cutting it versus jet engines.)

Milan’s still short haul from Palermo; only an hour and a half and he’s still processing the way that Dino Cavallone’s fucking with him - the idiot Horse had looked actually disappointed when he’d shoved his Flames away - and appreciating the way he’s been manipulated and managed when they start to descend.

(Shit, he’d been so busy fending off the direct attempt to tempt him that he’d barely registered the way he’d been stealthily wrapped up in the Cavallone’s Flames. The fucking tell, though, was that he hadn’t craved a cigarette yet, despite it being almost three hours since his last one. Freaking pushy Skies.)

The moment he lands he turns his cell phone back on, and before they’ve even taxi’d to the gate, it lights up with a series of text messages. They direct him to the left luggage counter, where he picks up the promised carry on; he checks its contents carefully and then slings it over his shoulder. He has an hour before his next flight, and he slips into one of the first-class lounges to shower and prepare as best as possible for a thirteen-hour flight. 

Boarding goes smoothly enough and he loses himself in the handful of games he’d requested and practising his Japanese on his seatmate - he’d taken the time to exaggerate his Japanese heritage when he redressed - and enjoys some surprisingly good food. 

Buried in the bottom of the carry-on, there’s a small blister pack of inert pills of the sort that allow a Flame User to use their Flames on themselves in a more controlled fashion; he charges a pair carefully, and then swallows the Rain one. 

(He needs to get at least _some_ sleep, and he doubted he’d manage to get much on the way back.)

He wakes two hours later just as the plane starts to descend into Tokyo International, and pops the second pill, feeling it perk him up far more effectively than the coffee the aircrew were willing to make him. (Weak stuff; he was on a fucking Air Italia flight, surely they could make real coffee?) He’d need another three probably, and then he could face plant back into his own bed and decide what to do next. 

Once they’re on the ground, he stretches and yawns - more about oxygen than exhaustion - and catches up his carry-on, grateful for the early escape from the aircraft that business class represents.

He makes his way out, through immigration - quick, thanks to his Japanese passport - and loops back around to departures to hustle Cavallone’s spouse through security. They aren’t hard to spot; Reborn’s as subtle as a stick of dynamite to the face. (According to Shamal, the man had been even more blatant when he was younger.)

He’s perched on the shoulder of a petite Japanese woman. Yeah, probably a woman; the colours and the cut of their jeans weren’t right for male. But they weren’t particularly curvy, which made identification tricky. Next to Reborn’s perch is a _very_ feminine Mist, dressed in what he recognises as loli-style, and a taller dark-haired clone of the Alaude portrait in the Vongola ballroom.

“Hn. You’re the Italian carnivore?” He’s half sure that he’s mistranslated an idiom, but Reborn’s perch presses a small hand to the tall Alaude-clone’s arm before the KI and other Cloud’s Flames can do more than brush against his skin. 

"Kyō-nii. Be nice. It’s bad enough Takeshi couldn’t come because you two had to play before I left.”

"If he can’t cope with me being the Nippon no Kumo, he has no business escorting an Asari-hime, koneko.”

“Ara, we should get through security, onisama, Bossu. Tsuyoshi-sama had Bossu’s trousseau and crated and delivered overnight, and our bags have been checked already.”

“I only have a ticket for Asari Kizuna -”

“I decided that the Asari-hime needed a chaperone and escort, and unlike their swordsman, Chrome-chan is in a position to continue her studies in Italy. I have provided her with a ticket from clan funds.” The Killing Intent the other teen radiates spikes, and his escortee sighs, going up on tiptoes to kiss the other Cloud’s cheek. He twitches, about to move to protect her - Cavallone would be less than amused if he delivered his bride with a broken limb - but it proves unnecessary. “Save those for your new husband, koneko, and warn him I will probably be in Italy to _test_ him - and your escort - within the year.” The Cloud plucks Reborn off Kizuna’s shoulder and puts the Arcobaleno under his arm in a completely undignified fashion. Amusingly, Reborn does nothing about it, allowing himself to be carried off and leaving him with the Cavallone’s bride and the Mist.

“Ara. Kyō-nii is just protective, Gokudera-san. If he’d taken a true dislike to you, I’d be going nowhere, despite the carefully drafted treaty my marriage is part of.” He blinks. He couldn’t feel a single wisp of a Flame from the woman in front of her, and yet she spoke and held herself like a Sky. “Fon-ojiisama’s best guess is I have an Activation disorder.” He winces; to be from a Flame Active family, with the strength of the Cloud that had carried out the Arcobaleno and to be unable to access something that was her birthright must be _stressful_. “But I am sky-natured and an Asari-hime, and with me comes treaty ties to the Nippon no Kumo and the Ōu-sama no Kumo and to the Hibari and Asari Clans as a whole, Gokudera-san.”

“Bossu -”

“Intuition, Chrome-chan. And Dino-sama sent him for me, too. Even if he has loose lips, none of that is a secret.” The tannoy system chimes, and she lifts an eyebrow at him. “I believe you need to lead the way Gokudera-san, ne? That was our flight’s boarding call.” He suppresses a squeak.

“Che. Can I have your passport, Asari-hime, and your passport and boarding pass, Chrome-san?”

“Ara. Chrome-chan is not a mainline Hibari, Gokudera-san.” He wants to ask why that matters, but if she prefers the chan suffix, that was up to her; he suspects there’s something about loli that he’s forgetting though.

“… Okay. I’ll try and remember that, Chrome-chan.” He leads the way through the fast track security line and back to the gate that he’d arrived at, making the waiting members of the Air Italia smile at him.

“I see you found the women you were flying in to escort, Master Gokudera. We’re ready to board you, unless you need to grab something first?” He translates for Chrome and Cavallone’s bride (he’s distancing himself so he’s not tempted by her) and is just about to hand their boarding cards over when a twenty-something Japanese man in the incongruous combination of a pompadour and a police uniform rushes up and he freezes.

“Itō-kun?” Cavallone’s bride almost yelps in surprise.

“Koneko-hime. Hibari-sama said you were leaving for Italy and we put together something for you -“ The aircrew giggle as a bag is presented to Cavallone’s bride with much bowing and the woman’s flush, and then he manages to herd both women into the aircraft and into the fortunately still empty first-class section of the plane. He half expects the two women to sit next to each other in one of the pairs of seats, but instead, Chrome sits by herself, and Cavallone’s bride indicates that he should sit next to her.

“What did they give you, Kizuna-sama?” It feels like a safe enough question, and she smiles at him, opening the small bag, and laying the contents on the side table (they’re at least twenty minutes from take-off, if not more; those flying economy are still settling - rather noisily - into their seats).

“I understand that hard candies help when taking off, ne?” He nods. “That explains these.” She holds up a large bag of sweets with a rueful smile. (Her voice is low and sweet, and he’s not jealous of Cavallone. He _isn’t_.) “Would you like one? They’re my favourites.” He takes one and unwraps it, popping the small candy into his mouth; it tastes floral but sweet, and he smiles at her, making her light up. “There’s a set of headphones and a cuddly toy, too.”

“Why was a police officer giving you a care package, Kizuna-sama?”

“Ara. Kyōya-nii rescued Itō-kun from himself four years ago, and then when I needed a guard at night he volunteered.” Her lips curl into something that’s not a smile. “Tou-san’s enemies had figured out where we were; I was lucky to have my nii-san.”

That didn’t answer his question, though he supposed it did partially explain why the woman sitting next to him was willing to move more than six thousand miles. 

“Tell me a little about Dino-san, please Gokudera-kun? He sent you to get me -”

“He’s a Sky. And comfortable in it. His men like him, and he’s generous; he’s paid me €10.000 to escort you and play translator enroute. I assume he didn’t realise you’d have a Mist accompanying you -“

“Oniisan is a terror unto everyone.”

“Oniisan?”

“The Asari and Hibari have been allied since the Tokugawa shogunate; it’s an honorary thing since he and Takeshi and I are within eighteen months of age. And he’s oniisan rather than anata because he needs a fighting Sky to be happy; one that’ll put him on his back and make him submit. Chrome-chan’s already agreed to be his surrogate if he needs one; he argues he was doing his duty and she smiles and says she would be doing hers.” She shakes her head, amused. “But I asked about Dino-san, not Cavallone-sama, Gokudera-kun.”

The aircrew interrupt them briefly to indicate they should put their seat belts on, and he considers his answer and pops a nicotine lozenge for the take-off. Once they’re taxiing he answers, amused that she thought to ask. “I’ve only met him ‘off-duty’ a couple of times, Kizuna-sama. Mostly when I was younger; he’s six years older than I am, but I was my father’s heir. He’s sweet. He used to be clumsy, but he’s gotten a lot better, and he has a brain and a taste for body art -” Kizuna blushes and he chooses not to probe further as they take off, rhythmically swallowing to avoid his ears popping. “- and he definitely adores his horses. He’s good with kids, too; I think he was one of the few who saw one of my poisoned performances and was worried about me. Not that he could do anything - he wasn’t even Active - but he did ask my Uncle to check on me.”

“Poisoned?”

He laughs ruefully. “Have you run into any of the really weird Flame Gifts? The ones that seem like a Mist must have cursed the holder’s ancestor for doing something really Stupid?” She nods. “My older sister has one. My father wasn’t very ethical about how he dealt with it.”

She winces. “Ouch. I have; one of my adopted cousins explodes rather literally when she’s embarrassed. She’s fostered with my nii-san’s haha-ue’s wakagashira, a Lightning who can keep her safe; there is only so much Mist Flames can help with loaning her control.”

Huh. He wonders if Shamal could have suppressed Bianchi’s poison cooking? “Bianchi poisons things if she’s jealous. If I remember correctly, she’s banned from the Cavallone estates after her antics during your new husband’s training.” Which made Cavallone’s implied offer significantly more attractive; his sister was trying to persuade him she’d mended her ways, and that he wanted to be Don Falco, yes? (No. If he inherited that damn castle he was going to blow it up, preferably with every single one of his father’s sycophants still inside.) 

Their flight is still climbing, but more slowly, and he stretches, leaning forward to retrieve his carry on from its cubby; he pulls out his new DS, making Cavallone’s bride bounces in her seat and then pull a well-decorated DS out of her own carry-on. “Ara, do you have Pokémon Mystery Dungeon? I’ve been enjoying it, but it’s supposed to be more fun when played together -”

They settle down to a cooperative venture that eats hours; she’s far further on in the game then he is, but thanks to the game’s design that doesn’t matter too much; it’s a cutesy addition to the Pokémon franchise. Play is interrupted by dinner and his charge yawning (the Mist accompanying them is doing _something_ creative with her Flame, but as the aircrew are ignoring her and the plane shows no sign of crashing, he’s not going to poke her) and he rummages in his carry on. 

“I have some carrier pills and enough Rain Flames to charge them if you want to sleep for a few hours, or I can use my Cloud to do so if you’d rather stay awake; we’ve got another six hours of flight time, and it’ll be six pm when we land. We’ll have another flight after that, then the drive out to Cavallone’s Villa unless he’s got a transport capable Mist lurking out on one of his farms.”

(Given Bono, and the implication of a senior Cavallone being an unbonded Mist he wouldn’t be surprised if Cavallone was hiding one, to be honest.)

“How long will it make me sleep?”

“Two hours per pill. I used them on the way out so I’d be feeling human when I landed.”

“Chrome-chan?” The Mist leans over and takes them, examining the package and humming thoughtfully.

“They’re safe, Bossu. You can take two, or I can put you in a dream state for a few hours; using them would let me start teaching you Italian though now I’ve, uh, borrowed the skill.” 

“Two, then, Gokudera-kun.” While he charges them carefully, Kizuna digs in her carry-on and pulls out a beautiful blanket, threaded with silver and dyed a shade of pale orange that he suspects would match her Flames if she was to go Active and curls up beneath it. She also pops her headphones back on, and then holds out her hand for the pills. He hands them over and Kizuna swallows them dry and passes out almost immediately. 

Chrome giggles and presses Mist coated fingers to Kizuna’s forehead. “Can I borrow your knowledge of the local dialect, Gokudera-sama? Kizuna will still need your services; bedding in linguistic skills takes time.” He nods. “Take two of your pills too, and I’ll link the two of you together.” He unfurls his own blanket and charges two more pills before swallowing them, and as he fades out, she strokes the same fingers over his forehead, and settles back into her own seat.

(Chrome-chan’s Mist Flames drag him into a shared mental space with Kizuna; he spends the next forever - the duration of the Rain Flames, he suspects - teaching Cavallone’s bride Sicilian and trying to ignore the way their gender presentation swings back and forth. And the seductiveness of their Flames in this space; Activation disorder indeed.)

Precisely four hours after he shuts his eyes, he opens them again, the dregs of the Rain Flames leaving him with the same rapidity as they took effect. He flexes his fingers and yawns, debating whether to charge himself and Kizuna a Cloud pill or not; his decision is made for him by the aircrew beginning to serve dinner; the change over of while he was retrieving Kizuna means the coffee they provide is significantly more potent than it has been on the previous flight.

One they’ve eaten their meal, while Kizuna is practising her Sicilian on the obliging purser, he jumps through the hoops to connect to the inflight wifi, and is rewarded with a message on his Blackberry from Cavallone; it makes him scowl slightly. “Ara, is something wrong, Gokudera-kun?”

“Your husband is planning to meet us in Milan with his private jet; it means switching terminals. I assume he’s making arrangements for your trousseau and checked bags as we speak.”

She looks thoughtful. “Will there be somewhere I can change at Milan? I should meet Cavallone-sama as the Asari-hime, really -” 

«Cabin crew, prepare for landing.»

“Given we’re transferring, yes. There are several lounges in the International terminal.”

She beams at him and settles back into her seat, pulling her DS out again, and he sends one last message before putting his Blackberry away and following suit. The landing goes smoothly and he palms the remaining blister pack of pills, charging them with his Cloud while they taxi to the terminal; Chrome and Kizuna both accept them.

Slipping into one of the lounges is simple enough; travelling on the Cavallone dime comes with _many_ perks. While the two women make use of the shower and changing facilities - he assumes Chrome has whatever clothes Kizuna wishes to wear to meet Cavallone tucked into her Flames - he plots their route to the private terminal and checks his Blackberry again. 

«Where are you?»  
«Freshening up; it’s a long flight, Cavallone. And where the fucking hell did you get my BBM handle, anyway?»  
«Shamal»

He groans. He was definitely going to blow up the damn pervert’s sports car; he’d deserve it at this point.

His train of thought is derailed entirely by Kizuna. Or rather by the Asari-hime, he’s being paid to escort. She’s unmistakably feminine in a way that she’d previously been androgyne, and very very Japanese in the delicate and intricate furisode in pale blue silk, with a wave and swallow motif and a trim - clearly a customisation - that precisely matches the Flame she can’t access. He finds himself staring, a hollow longing for something he couldn’t have settling into his stomach.

“Lead the way, Gokudera-kun.”


	4. Evening Planning and a Morning Ride - POV Dino

“Boss, what _are_ you and Reborn up to, and exactly how badly is it going to backfire on us?” He rubs his temples, suddenly exhausted.

“What makes you think there’s anything to worry about, Romario?” His Sun is leaning against the frame of his private office’s door.

“Don’t. Autumn Rain called me _directly_ to arrange the delivery of his ward’s trousseau, Boss.” He waves his hand in a ‘and’ gesture; he knows his Sun and his Sun’s moods. Finding out he’d effectively gotten married at his tutor’s insistence without saying anything to anyone else was not enough to warrant that response, especially given the contract Reborn had signed. “He told me _both_ of their names.”

Now he understands Romario’s response.

“I was under the impression that Iemitsu had a son, who was going to be Vongola Decimo. I had assumed that Kizuna was either a sister or half-sister to Reborn’s new student.”

“Well, given the contract, Romario, it’s safe to say Iemitsu didn’t have a _son_.” His consigliere makes a face at him. “But I don’t know precisely what’s going on, just that Kizuna needs a safe refuge and Reborn thinks she - they - will make me a good Donna. And Papa bound him to the contract _thoroughly_ , Romario. If he didn’t think we could weather whatever storm Kizuna being my Donna might bring and come out _better_ he couldn’t do it -”

“- you trust Reborn too much, Boss. I feel like I should have you hospitalised for Stockholm Syndrome sometimes.”

He smiles at his overprotective Sun, amusement curving his lips as he realises his father never told Romario about _all_ of the precautions he’d taken. “Nonna bound Reborn to that contract, Romario, with all the care she could take. If he breaks it, or arranges for the leash to be removed, the contract will either burn, or show the broken clause.”

Romario blinks at him, and he rummages in the drawer, pulling the contract out, and unfurling it for his Sun to look at. His Sun scans it, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “If you’d told me about this -”

“- I didn’t know about it until last year, when one of the penalty clauses kicked in. Even then, well, that clause was between him and I. But you’re my Guardian as well as my consigliere now, so I can show it to you.”

Romario scrubs his face. “If we’re hiding them - presumably in plain sight if they’re going to be your Donna - is it really a good idea bringing them and their trousseau into Palermo, given how tight the Vongola’s control over the airport currently is?”

“If you’re asking it, you’ve already fixed the issue, haven’t you?” Romario inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“I think you’ll like my solution, Boss; check your Blackberry.” He does, opening his calendar; it doesn’t look anything like it had last night. “I shifted your meetings around; we still get as much exposure, and there’s a short meeting in Milan, but it justifies taking the jet up, and you can meet your new bride a little earlier, and bring her back in style, Boss.”

“Who are we meeting in Milan?” What he’s really asking, he supposes, is if he’s going to be collecting his Donna with fresh blood on his hands.

“The Minister for Regional Affairs. She’s been wanting a meeting with you. She’s willing to swear that she’s not involved the Carabinieri; this is about you as Conte Cavallone, not Don Cavallone.”

“And you believe her?”

“You’ll have Bono with you. He’s already prepping just in case.”

“Does he need anything from me?” Romario shakes his head. “Make sure he’s scheduled for a few days off. He’s going to exhaust himself if we need to escape in a hurry.” His Sun makes a note. “Put me together a briefing pack in what I’m talking to the Minister about, and make sure the new hospital and school plans are in there.”

He stretches, yawning. His consigliere checks his own Blackberry. “Autumn Rain sent a full inventory for Kizuna’s trousseau; we’ve unsealed the door to the Contessa’s suite and the staff are currently renovating and freshening the space to allow for her to incorporate her belongings into the decorations.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Romario. What time do I need to be up and functional in the morning?”

“Your first meeting is a breakfast meeting in Syracuse with the Mayor; he’s ready to discuss that recycling contract, but needs some reassurance. He is Flame Aware, though; his maternal great-grandparents both fought with us during the war, and several of his second cousins are Active. If you talk him through what we’re doing he should be willing to sign off on it. He just doesn’t want the waste being dumped somewhere it’ll cause problems later.”

“When you say breakfast meeting, can I squeeze in a ride beforehand? I haven’t taken Ira out for a few days -“

“You should see if there are any volunteers to be her mare from the herd; she has several saddles listed in her trousseau.” He grins; Reborn really has made a good choice for him. “I thought you’d appreciate that. And you’re not due in Syracuse until 10 am.” He hums thoughtfully.

“So we need to leave here by what, eight-thirty? I assume we’re meeting him somewhere semi-public.”

“One of the restaurants in the Piazza Duomo; close to his office and Cavallone-controlled. Two of our men are already down there sweeping the restaurant and securing it.” He nods.

“So a dawn ride wouldn’t be unreasonable, ne?”

“As long as you take Alyessa with you, Boss. I don’t trust you not to forget the time.” He pouts at his consigliere who raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t lose track of time when you’re riding?”

“Point. And after talking to Roberto?”

“A pre-lunch meeting at the Academy about the youngest of our Skies. She’s being courted aggressively by one of the Caraceni and punched him in the face.” He groans, scrubbing his face. He knows exactly who Romario’s talking about. “It gets worse; one of the baby Superbi is involved, and as their parents aren’t Active, they’ve asked Squalo to represent them.”

“Has there actually been a new incident or have you pulled all the most intense and public meetings you can think of forward for tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately, there’s been a new incident. We might have to pull her from school for a few weeks for some one-on-one training with you, Boss; she’s broken her third nose in a fortnight.”

“Only if her classmates get a thorough grounding in how to respond correctly to a flaring Sky while she’s out of school.”

“We’re agreed.” He stretches and yawns, and Romario makes an amused sound. “Bed, Boss. I’ll tell the kitchen that you need an early breakfast. And that Ira needs tacked up for dawn. Take a pistol, please?”

“Oh?”

“One of the local sounder of boar has moved in closer to the far paddocks. The kitchen wouldn’t mind one to butcher, but don’t go looking for them.”

“I won’t. We’ll have to arrange to cull them before the mares start dropping their foals, though.” Romario nods, making a note on his Blackberry. “They’re under enough stress when giving birth without adding boars to the mix.”

“Bed, Boss.” He laughs and shoved himself away from the desk, standing and tucking the contract back in its secure drawer. “Blackberry, Boss. You’ve got an early start, a busy day, and a new bride to … seduce. I can handle anything that comes in overnight.”

He drops the device in his Sun’s outstretched hand and Romario pockets it. He slips through the door into the living area of his suite, shivering in anticipation; he’s not seen the door to the Contessa’s sitting room since his mother died, and seeing it now produces an almost pavlovian response.

But he resists the temptation to look; its intended to be his new wife’s private space, her safe refuge from the world. He won’t start this by invading it.

He yawns again and drops his jacket over the arm of one of the settees; his intuition pings slightly and he takes a moment to assess what might be making it react. He dismisses the conversation with Romario; if that had been the issue, they would have reacted sooner. Possibly something to do with the Contessa’s suite? It pings again and he blinks. What might have caught his eye in here …

He spins slowly, and his eyes light on the chatelaine; it’s ornate and ancient, a relic that demonstrates the age of the Cavallone Sky-line. His intuition purrs in pleasure and yeah, that definitely made sense. (Most antiquarians would be horrified that it was still in use; especially as they updated and modified it regularly. But Flame conductive silver was hard to come by, as were Flame conductive gems of their grade.) Giving it to Kizuna would be a clear sign of her status and protection all rolled into one if he remembered things correctly.

It would need updating, but that was more a matter of adding the missing keys than anything else. The issue of his intuition solved, he brushes his Flames over the chatelaine, feeding them into the reservoir and feeling it come to life; that done, he yawns again, and head into his bedroom to sleep.

Except sleep is elusive, and he throws off his blankets, hand drifting to his cock - half-hard again his thigh - and he bites his lip, trying to decide whether this would be disrespectful of his new Contessa. He’s torn; years of catholic indoctrination say it is, but Reborn and Romario have both beaten that his erections were his own problem into his head. He sighs and rolls over, reaching for his bedside table. He retrieves the lube and a couple of handkerchiefs and settles back into his bed.

He strokes himself, slow and easy, feeling his cock finish hardening; he toys with his foreskin, easing it back-and-forth, enjoying the sensation. He’s not in any hurry; it feels good and he doesn’t indulge often. He summons up the handful of images Reborn had sent him of his new Contessa - Tsuna/Kizuna - across the full spectrum of their gender presentation, and the heat in his belly catches fire, his hand speeding up on his cock. He groans, the fire in his belly spiking and he cums, spilling over his own belly, and he goes limp, enjoying the afterglow.

He makes himself clean up, dropping the handkerchiefs into the bin under his bedside table, and pulls his blankets back over himself and this time, he’s successful in succumbing to sleep.

His alarm goes off far too early, but there’s the lure of a dawn ride, and he groans and forces himself out of bed and into a shower (his clean up has been imperfect). He throws on something suitable for an early morning ride, stamping into his riding boots and grabbing his helmet. He slips through the Villa, heading for the kitchen; Alyessa’s waiting for him there, with a thermos of good coffee and a plate full of fresh Iris - oven-baked - and he can almost taste the sweet ricotta.

“So Romario tells me that our new Contessa arrives today, Boss?” He holds up his hand, drops his helmet on the table and opens the thermos and takes a draft of the coffee. His Lightning laughs softly.

“How much did he tell you?”

“Enough. You must adore her if you’re planning to ask the herd if one of them wants to be her palfrey -“ he takes another mouthful of the coffee to avoid the temptation to confess all to his Lightning, “- and it explains why you extended your last two trips to Japan.” Alyessa beams at him. “But why didn’t you say anything and why didn’t you stay in Japan and bring her home yourself, Boss?”

“I contacted Reborn to finish the negotiations; she’s from a Flame clan as old as ours, and Fon’s her adoptive great-uncle. It had to be done properly. But Timo’s called in the last of his mother’s favours with Reborn so things are moving a little faster than originally planned.” Alyessa eyes him sceptically.

“You’re not telling me something, Boss. But she’s not Italian, so at least she’s not going to have swallowed the ‘Lightnings are meat shields’ bullshit.” He bites into one of the Iris and moans in pleasure, wolfing it down. “And from what ‘maro said, she likes horses; her trousseau has three different saddles -“

“Kizuna’s five foot nothing; it’ll need to be one of the mares.”

“You’re going to give yourself a crick in your neck trying to kiss her, Boss.” His Lightning teases him, and he feels his cheeks burn as he can’t help but think of ways to solve the height difference. “Or is that tininess part of her appeal? I’ve not seen you blushing so hard since Reborn accidentally outed you as bi -“

He pulls a face. “Alyessa, I have an Academy meeting with Squalo today. I didn’t need the reminder about the half a dozen times I faceplanted into his lap.” She cackles. “Cruel woman. Is Ira ready?”

“Yup. And there’s something with the stopping power for boar in his saddle holster; we’ve got a sounder up near the far paddock.”

“Romario told me. Have you seen them, or just their scat?”

“Oh, I’ve seen them. The largest of the sows is well over a metre at the shoulder. I didn’t see any signs of them having Dying Will Flames, but.” He winces. That was seriously oversized for the boar that made the mountains their home. “So are we going to ride, or just gossip, Boss?”

“Ride. Is that second Iris yours, or mine?”

“Yours, Boss. I’ve already eaten. I’ll have some of the coffee though, while we walk out.” He jams his riding helmet on his head and swipes the second pastry, enjoying the sweet ricotta and chocolate filling as they head out to the stableyard.

Ira’s already prancing, able to feel his presence, and he finishes the pastry, catching up a handful of cookies for his stallion, and the horse greets him with a cheerful whinny. Next to him is Alyessa’s grumpier stallion; his Guardian was a superb horsewoman and the primary Cavallone herdswoman - which is why very few people were aware that he had a Lightning; as far as he was concerned she was far more valuable working the herd than playing bodyguard for him - and while he sometimes wanted to question her choice of mount, she’d never been thrown.

He feeds Ira the cookies, checking the way his tack fits; his stallion makes a grumpy sound when he tightens the bellyband an extra notch. “Yes, yes. I know, you wanted that loose. But I like staying on your back, and if you decide to apply a flaming hoof to a boar with that band loose, I’ll find that tricky.” His stallion stamps and Alyessa laughs, check her own stallion’s bellyband and vaulting into the saddle. He rears as she lands in the saddle, but she controls that effortlessly, turning it into pirouette that he’s almost envious of. He’d have stayed on the horse’s back, but without so much grace.

Shaking his head, he vaults into his stallion’s saddle, settling in place and soothing Ira with a hand on his neck. Once Ira’s decided he’s happy enough with his presence on his back, he checks the tack one more time, finding his preferred Beretta Storms in their holsters; he takes the time to check that the actions on both are smooth, that they’re both loaded with rounds in the chamber - wild boar were lethally dangerous, and he wanted to be able to put one down rapidly - and then pulls his Flames to the surface and meshes them with Ira’s. The stallion pulses back amusement and pleasure at his presence, and he ruffles his mount’s mane and then gives Ira his head. They race in the direction of the far paddocks, Ira’s gallop smoothing out as he reaches something close to his top speed, Alyessa and her stallion chasing after them.

They slow as they approach the woodlands closest to the far paddocks, and he piggy-backs his Flames onto Ira’s, reaching out, curious about the sounder, and his stallion takes the opportunity to stop fairly abruptly forcing him to work not to be thrown as their combined Flames ping off an unfamiliar, mammalian Sky. Alyessa slows her stallion more carefully, walking him to his side. “Boss?”

“I think I found the sounder. And the matriarch at least is Flame Active; she’s curious and heading this way -“

“Romario’s going to _kill_ me. I was supposed to keep you from getting into trouble.” Alyessa mutters sotto voce.

“I doubt she’s actually a threat.”

“Boss, you’re an eternal fucking optimist.”

“Point.” Ira prances, and he reins him in, soothing his sudden alertness. “You might want to back up a bit though, Alyessa; I’m not sure your stallion is going to be quite so manageable in a few minutes.”

“He’ll manage, Boss. At least have one of your Berettas in hand? Wild Boar are fucking terrifying.” He shakes his head, but draws one of the weapons before dismounting and looping Ira’s reins up. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Boss -“

His Lightning is cut off by the sow emerging from the woodland, pushing through some bushes; she’s clearly the Sky that he and Ira head brushed Flames with. He can feel Alyessa’s anxiety, but the sow doesn’t feel particularly aggressive and his lands were perfectly capable of supporting a sounder of boar, and if one of them has awoken their Dying Will, the others might, and he’d rather give them sanctuary.

His first impression is that she’s big. Scarred; given how hard achieving the initial Activation could be that wasn’t surprising. (It took more than a dozen generations, on average, before children started to reliably be born Active.) His second is that she has the intelligence that Flames tended to grant the animals that wake them.

He reaches out with his Flames, cautiously, brushing against her Sky, making the same offer he’d make to any of his ‘junior’ Skies. He can feel Alyessa’s mental facepalm, and Ira gathering Flames in preparation for an attack, but he’s not worried. She reaches back, settling into the greater Harmony that is the whole Familiga and he sighs and stretches, relieved. He resists the temptation to tell his Lightning ‘I told you so’.

“Boss, you’ve taken ten years off my fucking life. If you didn’t need to be in Milan -“ the sow grunts at his Lightning, and he rolls his eyes and does the Flame-equivalent of swatting her snout with a rolled-up newspaper. She makes an indignant sound, her Flame showing in her eyes, but backs off.

“She’s the senior Lightning within our Harmony; you respect her as you’d respect me.” The sow grunts, but lowers her head. “You can roam the wooded areas; stay out of the paddocks. Some of the mares are just as Active as you are and prone to kicking first and stamping the corpse into paste. Stay away from the buildings; I need to warn my men about you.” His lips curl in amusement. “Feel free to eat anyone in the woods that doesn’t carry the touch of our Harmony.” The sow grunts, a sound that’s probably acknowledgement, and drops something, before turning and trotting back into the woods.

He gives her a few moments to retreat into the woods, and then steps forward and scoops up the object; it’s a large truffle, perhaps half a pound, with two sets of very gentle teeth marks. “You have the devil’s own luck sometimes, Boss.” His Lightning’s tone is awed and disbelieving. “Romario’s going to be a little bit disappointed at the lack of wild boar on the menu, but the truffle will definitely make up for it.” He grins, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, and tucks the truffle into one of his saddlebags before vaulting back onto Ira’s back, removing his Beretta from his waistband and reholstering it.

He can hear and feel the sow and her sounder moving in the woods, and Alyessa’s stallion prances and shies - he’s not Active, can’t feel that they’re not a threat - as they turn to head for the far paddocks. The herd is waiting for him, curious, the lead mare - Ira’s mother, also a Sky - whinnying a greeting to himself and Alyessa as they slow to a halt outside the gate.

“Good morning, Stella.” He greets his lead mare with a smile and a gentle flare of his Flames, dismounting from Ira’s back and crossing to the gate, lifting the latch - several of the horses were capable of doing so, but understood the gate being closed helps with protecting the foals - and opening it. Ira ambles inside and Alyessa follows, still mounted, and he does so too, removing his helmet and clipping it to his belt. “Did you feel the new member of our Harmony, sweetheart?” His lead mare with her pale coat nods, and butts his shoulder with her nose. He rubs her nose and tugs at her mane gently, making her lip at him. “No stamping their piglets to death when they start arriving, pretty lady.” She hmphs, flaring her Flames. “I’ve told them to stay well away from you, but you know how little ones will roam.”

Alyessa dismounts, tying her stallion to the fence, and drifts through the herd, checking on the yearlings and making a rough headcount of the Flame Actives amongst them.

Stella nibbles on his hair and he flails slightly. “Sweetheart. I’m meeting my wife for the first time this afternoon.” His lead mare hmphs and resumes nibbling on his hair. “I have a cookie left?” She leaves off, and he sighs, fishing in his pocket. “She’s a horsewoman, too; there’s a number of saddles in her trousseau. I was hoping that one of your daughters might want to be her partner?”

She snaffles the cookie out of his hand, and his stallion gives him a betrayed look. Once she’s crunched it, with a certain amount of delight - he’d have to bring more up for the herd later in the week; maybe when he introduced Kizuna to them - she makes a command sound, and one of the other mares - slim, delicately built, her hide a dark-purplish shade that had to indicate she’d been born Flame Active - bullies her way through to stand by her dam.

“Oh, you’ve grown to be _gorgeous_ , sweetheart.” The new mare chuffs at him, and he scritches her ears gently. “Last time you let me this close, you were barely ready to wean. Are you sure you want to be ridden?” She nods, and rubs her cheek against his. “It’ll mean staying down near the Villa so we can find you for Kizuna to ride -” A wisp of Cloud Flames settles into his Harmony, forming a bond that’s thin but strong; barely shy of a Guardian bond. He’s got just under a dozen others at that level, but they’re all Skies willing to be part of his Harmony. “- I suppose that’s one way to deal with that. Do you want to come down to the Villa so she can meet you in the morning?”

She hmphs, and he sighs, rubbing her ears. “Nuvola, really Boss?” Alyessa sounds almost disbelieving. “I was expecting one of the pretty little electric girls would suit her, not the crankiest Cloud we’ve ever bred.”

“Her choice. She’s old enough to be ridden, and she’s already inserted herself into our Harmony; she’s even my senior Cloud until I find a Cloud Guardian or she decides she wants the role.” Nuvola lips his hair and he sighs; apparently neither of his senior mares thought he was well-groomed today. “Nuvola, sweetheart, no terrorising Alyessa, or the stablehands. You can be picky, but you do need tacked and untacked, and rubbed down sometimes.” She hmphs again, but wanders over to the gate, lifting the latch by the rope pull.

“I’m blaming you if anyone gets kicked, Boss. Anyone normal would want a pretty little demure mare for their wife. You pick the most vicious fighting mare that we have, one who’d prefer to put a hoof through someone’s skull rather than let them touch her.” He shrugs. Then normal people were idiots; who wouldn’t want an overprotective battle mare watching over their wife as an extra bodyguard?

He pulls his helmet back on, clipping the chin-strap, and then remounts Ira; Alyessa follows suit, and they follow Nuvola out of the gate. When he looks back, one of Stella’s sunny children is pulling the gate shut again; he shakes his head in amusement.

“How’s your boy doing, Alyessa? Does he have another run in him?” His Lightning nods, and he grins. “Following us home, Nuvola?” She whinnies, tossing her head, and he spurs Ira, communicating his desire for a full gallop to the stallion, and Ira obliges, and he laughs and tumbles himself into their mutual Harmony and it makes the ride even more exhilarating.

They slow to a halt in the stableyard, the stablehands scattering at the sight of three of the Flame Active horses blowing and snorting, with their Will flickering in their manes; he and Alyessa dismount in a hurry to tend to their mounts and reassure the stable hands, and Nuvola huffs and rests her head on his shoulder.

“Boss?”

“She’s going to be my Donna’s mare, Tomas; we’ll discuss who she’ll allow to groom her, later. Kizuna’s bringing several saddles with her; tag one of the larger loose-boxes as hers, though I doubt she’ll use it much. Same rope-tug as Ira has.” His stable-manager nods. “Nuvola, let someone rub you down; hands are useful.” She huffs, but nods, eyeing the stablehands and making a decision. The youngster she walks over to squeaks, and he laughs. “He might need a little help, Tomas. Talk him through how to groom and handle her, please? She’s obviously seen something she likes in him.”

His stable-manager nods, and walks with him, back towards the house. “Should we be expecting any additions to the herd, Boss?”

“None that we’ve been notified of. Kizuna’s flying into Milan tonight; they’re on a commercial flight, and there are no horses on its manifest. We can double-check when they arrive; it may be that they’ll need to come in by one of the less legal routes if they’re also Flame Active.” Tomas nods and hums, and tugs him off route to the stable’s hay-loft. He goes without question; the sounder of wild boar was the third cluster of Flame Active animals that had settled into his Harmony, and the leader of the second, the barn-cat clowder, tended to use the loft as a nursery.

She meets him with a small kitten - too small, an unusual colour and pattern of markings - scruffed, and drops it into his waiting hand. She licks it, and it makes a tiny sound that breaks his heart before looking up at him and nodding.

“Sure, sweetheart? They’re awfully young and tiny to be away from you.” The other kittens, easily twice the size of the little one in his hand and far more lively, tumble over to investigate his presence. They’re clearly at least six weeks old, which makes the tiny form in his hand the same age and he sighs, especially since he can feel that they have no Flames, but the one in his hand does. “I’ll make sure they get what they need. You look after those little menaces, okay?” The clowder queen nods, regally, and herds the bigger kittens back to their nest while he carefully climbs back down the ladder.

“Ah. That makes sense of why she was demanding your attention. I tried to get her to let me bring that one into the office last week, Boss. She’s clearly got Dying Will Flames, Active ones, but she’s let the others bully her away from her mother’s teats.” He strokes the little cat gently, and runs his Flames over her, trying to get a feel for what, if anything, was out of harmony in her system. “I’ve got kitten milk and the medication she’ll need in my office. Let me take her, get her fed and dosed, and bring her up the Villa.” He tilts her head. “Queenie gave her to _you_ , Boss. There’s obviously a reason, and I have no desire to deal with her deciding that death from above is entertaining.”

He snorts, and hands the kitten over - it’s hard; the tiny Sky wants his protection, and he wraps some of his Flames around her as reassurance. “Ira’s likely to stay down here for a while, especially if there are cookies available; once she’s fed, put her in his rack?” Tomas nods, and he leaves his stable-manager to take care of the Sky-kitten, and heads up to the Villa.

Romario flutters around him when he steps back into the Villa; handing him the clearly animal-found truffle doesn’t help. He finds himself thoroughly lectured as he’s showering and turning himself into the semi-respectable ‘Conte Cavallone’ - the man that the Mayor of Syracuse could meet publically without facing a Carabinieri interrogation - and he hates wearing this suit. His whines about which just leave Romario growling at him, and dragging him through the Villa and half throwing him into the limousine. His Storm is waiting in the vehicle; which makes sense. The man runs the recycling plant, and has a purely civilian reputation as a quiet competent individual. The rest of his escort is Misty, which makes sense, and he settles back onto the limousine’s rear bench seat to discuss the plant’s operations with Reno as they drive into town.


	5. 'Parent'-Teacher Conference & Lunch - POV Original Cavallone Character

She kicks her heels, grumbling, and trying not to panic about the fact that she’s been summoned to the office for a ‘parent’-teacher conference. (She snorts, mentally; none of them were being represented by their _blood_ parents.) Across from her is Enhydra, who gives her a thumbs up when she catches her peeping past her hair, and Leonardo Caraceni, who was the Stupid prick that had started this.

“Voooiii! What the fuck have you little shits been up to! I was supposed to be killing someone today -“ She flinches.

Enhydra laughs and bounces up out of her seat to hug the Varia Officer who’d just walked in. “Zio! I’d wondered who was coming.”

“Voooiii. This is Sky-related shit; there weren’t many of us who could.” She curls in on herself, half terrified by the loud Rain; Squalo Superbi was notorious, and even if he was her Mist’s uncle, that didn’t mean he’d like her. And he was loud, the taste of his Flames almost acidic to her senses. 

“Quit scaring my Sky, Zio.”

“Voooiii. No fucking wonder I’ve been called in. Shitty brat, you’ve left the fucking Family.” She sits bolt upright; she hadn’t meant for that to happen. “But you’re still family, which is why I’m here. Now what the fuck happened, brat? Why’s the little shit over there still breathing?”

“Zio -“ she drops her head into her hands as the Varia Officer drops into the chair next to her new Mist. “Zio, Mamma told me that I wasn’t to murder anyone.”

“You’re _Squalo Superbi’s_ niece?” 

“Leonardo Caraceni.” The principal’s secretary sticks her head around the door and summons the Stupid idiot. Which is weird? Unless she’s trying to avoid Squalo stabbing the Stupid idiot? “Commander, you were supposed to alert the reception downstairs to your arrival.”

“Voooiii. Doors are for corpses, trash.” The secretary sighs. “And don’t fucking worry; if I stab the shitty Caraceni, I’ll summon a cleanup crew.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, Commander. I was rather hoping your brother would be the one who showed up.” Enhydra giggles. “Young lady -“

The intercom buzzes and the secretary presses its button. «Miss Rochelle, Don Cavallone’s arrived. Shall I send him up?»

“Yes. Then give us a minute, and bring the Caraceni representative up. To the corridor door, please; Commander Superbi is in the outer office.”

«I didn’t see him arrive.»

“He’s Varia.” She giggles; the way the secretary says it makes it clear the staff will accept that as an answer. “Allegedly doors are for corpses.” The comment is added with a sigh. 

“Next time, ignore your Mamma; the only person you have to listen to is your Sky and whoever she cleaves to, brat.” The way the Rain ruffles her Mist’s hair makes it clear that’s how he expresses affection. “Next time, just fucking kill the threat to your Sky; there’ll be less paperwork.”

“Commander!”

“Emiliana, are you okay, sweetheart?” She launches herself at her Don; it’s very impetuous and not something she’d normally dream of doing, but he sounds so concerned and his Flames feel comforting, and he catches her and hugs her close. His Flames curl around hers, and she settles into them without thinking, taking the offered position. “I like your choice of Mist, kiddo.” She hiccups and buries his head in her Sky’s jacket.

“Voooiii. Not going to let her choose if she wants to be a Superbi, Bucking Horse?”

“She’s one of mine to protect, Squalo. Blood Cavallone, if from a branch family. She’d no more walk away from the Family than you would from your Sky.” Enhydra hisses, and she hears the ‘zing’ of a blade being drawn.

“Voooiii. You don’t know what you’re talking about Bucking Horse.” 

“Don Cavallone, Commander, we’re ready for you. Please bring your charges in.” 

Dino presses a kiss to her hair. “You’re going to be okay, kiddo. And if you’re about to be suspended, I have plans.” She grins and he releases her, and she follows him into the principal’s office. The Caraceni representative is already seated, and her Don and Commander Superbi take the other two seats; she and Enhydra stand beside their chairs, her Mist and best friend just within reach.

“Voooiii! What the fucking hell are we here for? And make it fucking snappy, or I’ll get the fucking miser to bill you all for my time -”

“Commander.” The Varia Officer goes surprisingly quiet at the principal’s sharp tone. “Between them, Enhydra and Emiliana have sent Leonardo to the school infirmary seven times outside of sparring and gym class. During this morning’s incident, the two of them achieved a full Sky-Guardian bond.”

“And?” Dino’s shifted back to Don Cavallone, hands plucking at his whip absently. “Given everything I’ve observed, including my ward’s Flames, the only ones of us who should be in here are Leonardo and his ‘parent’.”

“The medics have pulled shards of bone from his sinuses _twice_.”

“Emiliana?” Her Don’s Flames curl around her protectively.

She bites her lip. “He won’t take no for an answer, Don Cavallone, sir.”

“And what did I tell you to do when a boy or man won’t take no for an answer, Emiliana?”

“Hurt him until he stops, sir.”

“I return to my original question, Principal Rossi. Emiliana is merely following my instructions. She is a uniquely vulnerable position as a young female Sky without a complete set of Elements. One that this school’s secondary charter is designed to mitigate.” 

“Her Flames say she wants me!” She cringes. Dino pushes to his feet, Flames flaring and flooding the room, thick, powerful and intoxicating.

“Voooiii. You’ve grown into your fucking promise, Bucking Horse.” She twitches slightly. What was it Enhydra had told her about the Varia and nicknames? There was something important about the Commander calling Dino by it. “Bucking Horse is right; she said no, brat. Her senior Guardian said no. You’re fucking lucky they haven’t killed you.” 

The principal sighs. “Don Cavallone, I’m going to have to ask you to accept a minimum of two weeks’ suspension for Emiliana. I need time to ensure that the Academy is in a position to appropriately support her.” Her Don’s whip snaps, cracking millimetres shy of Leonardo’s nose and she grins.

“Only if Leonardo’s suspended for the remainder of the year. He can start the year over; maybe he’ll be able to keep up with his new peers.”

“Voooiii. Agreed. And Enhydra stays with her Sky, no penalty to either of their records.”

“Leonardo did nothing wrong -”

Her Don looks at his watch ostentatiously. “I’m due in Milan at 5pm; if you’re really going to protest that my ward shouldn’t be allowed to say no, then I’ll be discussing a contract to clean your gene pool with the Commander while we’re en-route to my airstrip. Thanks to Reborn, my opinions on consent are well known, and even minor bonds are _intimate_.” The Caraceni representative splutters in indignancy. 

“Done.” Principal Rossi’s response startles her, and she realises that the principal didn’t really want to punish her, but had to for appearance’s sake. “Emiliana and Enhydra can return on the 15th.” She sighs in relief. 

Her Don’s Flames ebb, and she wraps her arms around herself for comfort. “I’ll see you on the 15th then, Principal Rossi. Squalo, would you join us for lunch? I need to clear one or two things up with you.”

“Voooiii! You’re paying, Bucking Horse.”

“Mammon is rubbing off on you. My second newest Sky -“ he ruffles her hair affectionately, “- gave me an excellent black winter truffle this morning; I thought you might enjoy some for lunch.”

“Voooiii. Acceptable.”

Her Don taps his pocket and the edges of the world blur, and she almost fights the sensation, but Enhydra merely feels curious and her Don satisfied, and she recognises the space reforming around them from visits to the Villa with her parents. 

“That was _very_ well done, Maria; I told you that Siracusa was well within your range, especially when your target is our Sky.” 

“Bono’s right, Maria.” Her Sky beams at the young Mist, who flushes dark red. “We’ll have to increase your stipend.” The young woman squeaks and flees the room; Dino sighs and shakes his head. “Enhydra, welcome to the Villa Cavallone.” Her own Mist curtsies. “Bono’s currently my senior Mist; we’ll arrange for him to test your skills in the next few days. We have a fortnight after all.”

“Voooiii. Was that show of strength for my benefit or the Caraceni, trash?”

“It’s always better to hit multiple birds with one stone, Squalo. Especially when performing magic tricks.” The Varia officer hmphs and she barely avoids her own squeak. “But you knew about the Family Mists; several of the more bloodthirsty ones work for you after all.”

Another of the senior Cavallone men steps into the room, Sun Flames bright and warm and beams at the sight of them. “Ah, Maria was successful; we thought she would be, but she was suffering from self-doubt again. I’ll notify the kitchen, Boss; lunch will be in about five minutes.”

“You are a treasure, Romario. Squalo, we’ll be using my private dining room.” Her Don’s Flames wrap around her again, warm and comforting and he smiles at her as the man addressed as Romario disappears again. “You’re one of mine now, Emiliana; please call me Dino unless we’re in public. And Squalo doesn’t count as public; not after Reborn’s … antics.”

“Voooiii. That’s a very polite way to refer to you kissing my cock, Bucking Horse. Several times.”

“You didn’t mind at the time.” She does squeak this time as the swordsman leads the way into one of the smaller dining rooms in the Family Wing. “Do you have an eye on any other as Guardian candidates, Emiliana?”

“No, sir. And, um, Enhydra was mostly an accident, too? We were both so mad at Leonardo and it just clicked -“

The Commander laughs. “Voooiii. Sounds like me and my shitty Sky, brat. We were both so annoyed at being at that shitty ball.” 

“You have a Sky, Zio? How come I’ve never met him?”

The Varia Officer ruffles her Mist’s hair. “His name is Xanxus, brat. He’s the youngest of the Vongola Ninth’s kids. His father’s got him under house arrest.” Dino makes a disbelieving sound, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Um. Dino, do I have to -“

“Not unless you want to, kiddo. Alyessa’s my senior herdswoman; the only person she’s ever killed was a threat to the herds we protect.” He takes a seat and they all follow; then a door in the panelling opens and two men emerge with simple plates of pasta with giant slivers of truffle that are placed in the table on front of them.

“Voooiii. Your Lightning is terrifyingly normal, Bucking Horse; be glad you don’t have to wrangle Levi.” Her Sky grins. 

“So why are your cousin’s men being so annoying, Squalo?” She tastes one of the slivers of truffle and barely manages to bite off a moan at the flavour. “Because there are wild boar in my forest now, and I told them they can eat anyone they perceive as a threat.”

“Voooiii. Shitty Horse. Why the fuck would I know what they’re up to?” Her Don raises an amused eyebrow. “Quid pro-fucking quo. You sent Smoking Bomb to Japan at fucking light speed yesterday; what was the fucking emergency?”

“My wife needed an escort, and we had to bring her arrival forward; events in Japan ran away from us.” The Commander looks like he’s been hit with his namesake and she wants to giggle, except that she’s feeling fairly startled herself. Since when did they have a Donna? Surely someone would have told her, right? Sure, she’s been thoroughly distracted by Leonardo, but _still_. “I’ll be taking Emiliana and Enhydra to Milan with me to meet Kizuna this evening; Alyessa will take them shopping while I’m in a meeting so they’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Voooiii. Where was my fucking invite, Bucking Horse?” Dino grins boyishly. “I have some fucking fun stories for her, after all -“

“She’s Japanese, Squalo. Adopted niece to Autumn Rain and kin to Fon; there’s been no religious ceremony yet, but the appropriate entries have been made on the relevant family registers.” She makes a relieved sound; she’d really thought she’d missed something. “It’ll be up to her how much of a ceremony we hold, -” his lips curl in mild amusement, “- though if we have non-Cavallone there, you’ll get an invite, Squalo. Providing you promise no unprovoked murder.”

“Will your shitty former tutor be there, Bucking Horse?”

“He’s on a contract. He has been acting as my nakodo.” Squalo whistles.

“Shit, that contract your old man wrote was fucking thorough, wasn’t it?”

“He played on Reborn’s affection for my bisnonna.” She’s missing something. (Milan, shopping with Enhydra and Alyessa? Fuck, that was a _reward_! And getting to meet Donna Kizuna before most of the rest of the family, too!) “Now why’s your cousin up to no good, Squalo?”

“Voooiii. He owed me a fucking favour. You’re collateral.” Her Don’s Flames flare out hot and harsh, sparking her own Flames. “Shitty Horse, don’t throw your baby Sky into a Rage; she doesn’t know how to handle you pretending to be my shitty Boss. Have you lost more than a couple of thousand euros and had a couple of easily fixed injuries?”

Her Don-Sky grumbles. “If they get eaten while trying not to implicate me in whatever the fuck that you’re up to, I’m not culling the animals responsible. And like my horses, they have Flames, Squalo.” But his Flames are calmer and they’ve lost the harsh edge that had made her Flames hard to handle.

“If your shitty animals manage to eat them, the idiots needed to be culled.”

“Are you okay, Emiliana?” Her Mist’s voice pulls her the rest of the way back from the edge she’d been perched on. She nods, and her Mist’s Flames brush against hers, cool and centred, and it helps.

Dino’s Flames follow Enhydra’s, equally calm now. “I know you’re not interested in being heavily involved in the criminal side of things, Emiliana; you’re at the Academy because you’re Flame Active and it’s safer for everyone involved. If you want to be like Alyessa, that’s absolutely okay.” She makes a small relieved sound, and he leans over and ruffles her hair. 

“Voooiii. I don’t fucking understand it, but if you need someone dead, princess, that’s what I’m here for. I make fucking good money at it, and it’s entertaining as fuck seeing how they try to stop me.” She shudders. “Some shits need out of the gene pool, kiddo. I might go see what open contracts we’ve got on the Caraceni when I’m back in the castle; someone’s teaching their brats really bad fucking habits. The sort of shit that draws police attention. Unlike Enhydra, the little shit who was chasing you isn’t a trained Mist yet, but what would fucking happen if he’d decided civvies were easy targets, princess? Caraceni DNA showing up in rape kits isn’t something they can ignore -”

“Is this really dinner conversation, Squalo?”

“Voooiii. The only time anyone normally invites me to dinner is when someone needs killing, shitty Horse, and they wants to keep their hands clean.” Her Don pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“Do not make me make house-training you a personal project, Squalo. Reborn taught me very _well_.” The Commander makes a warding gesture that makes her giggle. 

The conversation peters out in favour of thoroughly enjoying the truffle pasta; around the time she’s finishing her bowl, Romario - Flames a little harsh, probably annoyance at Dino for _something_ \- rejoins them, but what attracts her attention is the fact that one of his suit jacket pockets is squirming. And mrrr-ing. “Your new minion found herself transport up to the Villa, Boss. I believe you should probably take her with you, lest she tries to sneak along anyway.”

Her Don laughs. “Why am I not surprised? Can you ask Tomas to bring milk for her to the landing strip?”

“Already done, Boss. Or rather it’s in the car; if you want to make your flight window, you need to get to the strip in the next fifteen minutes.” 

Her Don grins. “Take the girls down, Romario; I need to grab something for Kizuna from my suite. Ask Alyessa to meet us at the jet.” The kitten squirms, finally sticking her tiny head out of the pocket she’s in. “You, sweetheart, need to stay put in Romario’s pocket for a few more minutes. You can move to mine when we’re in the car -“ she blinks at his words, but then she realises that the kitten is actually Flame Active and a Sky, too. 

She’d known that some of their horses were Active, but the revelation that there were another two species with demonstrable Dying Will Flames throws her a little. Romario herds herself and Enhydra away from Dino, which makes her scowl a little bit.

“Walk with me, Squalo; you’re not telling me something -”

“Voooiii. I have secrets to keep, Shitty Horse -“ the conversation goes mute with a flex of Rain Flames. Romario leads them down to the main hall and out to one of the cars; Romario takes the driver’s seat and she and Enhydra climb in the back. They sprawl against each other while they wait for Dino to join them; Romario makes an amused sound, leaning over from the driver’s seat to place the tiny Sky-flamed kitten on the rear-facing seat. She’s absolutely tiny, but adorable, cinnamon furred with marbled markings. 

“I have a lot to learn, don’t I?” She nods. “I knew we - the Superbi - kept lots of secrets, but everyone thinks the Cavallone don’t have secrets -“ she and Romario both giggle, and Enhydra pokes her side. The kitten mrrrps in amusement, eyes flecked with the orange of an Active Sky. 

“There’s a lot more Mist in the bloodlines that makes up the Family than we publicly admit to, Enhydra. The misdirection entertains those of us who have Mist Flames and keeps them from getting into trouble. You’ll fit right in.” The kitten yawns, showing off her sharp baby teeth, and stretches. She leans forward, offering a careful hand for her to sniff, and she butts her head against it. Soft Flames, like those of her baby cousin, brush against hers and she scritches the base of the kitten’s ears. “Can I give you a cuddle, little one?” The kitten nods, and she scoops her up to snuggle. She ends up curled up in the crook of her neck, a warm, purring lump whose whiskers tickle ever so slightly and it makes her smile.

“How many Skies do you have -?”

“Including the infants? Seventeen, Enhydra. Ten humans, and with the addition of the one curled up on your Sky and the matriarch of the sounder, seven non-humans.“ Romario sounds amused. ”Ten of those have direct bonds with the Boss, including your Sky. The other six are all underage as far as the Boss is concerned, including your Sky’s current snuggle partner, and two foals. Of them, only three are directly involved with anything illegal, and that includes the Boss and Ira as his combat partner. It might, given the orders the Boss gave the sounder, become four, _if_ anyone is stupid enough to trespass." 

Enhydra hums thoughtfully. “And if I want an avenue for mischief?” She groans as her Mist asks the question, but given she was the Varia Commander’s _niece_ , she supposed it was an obvious question.

“Well first I’d ask what your transport range was, and if you didn’t know the trick to it, send you to Bono to learn it.” The answer to her Mist’s question comes from her Don as he climbs into the vehicle. “Then I’d ask you how much mischief you wanted to get into. Several of my Mists work for your Zio, because they’re murderous brats who like the challenge; I have two or three who’ve infiltrated into the Carabinieri because they’re curious bunnies. There’s several in a variety of ministries monitoring what’s going on, too. Not all Mists, but your Flame type does predominate because it comes with inquisitiveness and a taste for mischief.” Dino holds his hand out to the kitten, who springs from her shoulder to his hand, and mrrrs at him affectionately. “Are you coming to meet my new Donna too, little one?” The kitten nods decisively, and he laughs and settles into the seat opposite them. 

The drive up to the airstrip doesn’t take very long, and the jet on the strip is already fueled, engines ticking over ready for take-off, a bickering Mist and Cloud poking at each other; the runway looks short, but she suspects that that’s why the two currently poking at each other are present.

There’s also a horse.

A horse poking its head out of the door of the aircraft. She blinks and prods Enhydra, sure her Mist is playing a prank on her. “Real as far as I can tell.” Her Mist sounds fairly surprised.

Huh. “Apparently Nuvola’s impatient; I shouldn’t be surprised, though, I suppose.” Her Don sounds amused. “She did claim a bond only just shy of Guardianhood, and the horses share memories with Mist Flames. And almost all of them have at least a little.” Dino deposits the kitten into one pocket of his parka jacket, where she settles down with a soft mrrr. 

“Nuvola. Into the stall, or I get someone to ’port you out of here!” She recognises the voice, and the horse retreats from the aircraft door. “And stand still once you’re there; I still need to wrap your shins and change out your halter -” there’s a grumbling horsey sound from inside the aircraft and Dino shakes his head in amusement and herds them up the steps - the swing down sort, and she doesn’t want to know how Nuvola managed to get up into the plane unassisted - and into the cabin; they’re followed by Romario, who disappears into the cockpit. The cabin makes her giggle. It’s so unrepentantly Cavallone and clearly used for horse transport as much as anything else.

“Alyessa, is Nuvola secured?”

“Give me another minute, Boss; you can close the door up though.” She’s bemused to watch her Don readying the aircraft for take-off. Once they’re all sat down, and Alyessa has called the all-clear through from the back of the plane, Dino sticks his head into the open cockpit, and they start to move; the acceleration pins her back into her seat, and she sees Enhydra fight the urge to interfere with the Mist and Cloud Flames enabling their take-off and there’s a whinny of protest from the mare in her stall. Dino’s Flames swell out to feel the aircraft, warm, soft Harmony, and she makes a small sound as she realises that as well as calming the mare, the Flames are actively augmenting the aircraft.

“The best-kept secret of our Flame-type -” her Don’s eyes are shut, a small Dying Will Flame burning on his forehead, “- is that it is _very_ versatile; everything about Dying Will Flames is about will and focus; if you can think it, believe it, you can do it.” She blinks, confused. “I’m optimising the engines. Nothing above their maximum theoretical capacity, but well, _Harmony_. I’ll be giving you more lessons when I can, Emiliana.”

She settles back into her seat, relaxing into the Flames filling the cabin, and lets herself fall into them, trying to learn from her Don; he guides her, shows her, and she loses herself in the intricate dance and the all-consuming Harmony. 

“You did well, kiddo. And you’re stronger than I thought.” She flushes at the praise. “I have some ideas about where you might fit into the Family, but you’re not under any obligations.”

Her Mist bites her lip. “What _do_ you want from us?”

“To thrive and help watch over the others on our lands. To keep the Family’s secrets, and to not break the Harmony I weave over it without _very_ good cause. It’s what keeps the farms and workshops productive enough to sustain everyone even when the island is suffering.” She turns over the request and nods. She can do that. “Anything else, up to and including when and if you kill is entirely at your discretion, kiddo.”

The aircraft starts to descend and she makes a small squeak. 

“Keeping track of time when you’re sunk into your Flames takes experience. You’ll get the hang of it. When we land, Romario and I are going for a meeting; Alyessa’s going to take you and Enhydra shopping. Kizuna lands at eighteen hundred hours; be back by then. Understood?”

“Of course, Dino.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you want to see the POV first for the meeting?


	6. Five + One; or Five versions of Kizuna's arrival and a glimpse into Timoteo's Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five Versions of the Same Scene; pick your poison! (Or rather POV)
> 
> Links lead to the specified point of view; I think if you're going to read all of them, they work best in the given order, but you may disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kizuna's Furisode is based on this one:
> 
> <https://i.pinimg.com/474x/b5/b6/69/b5b669a608aaaf779b93c937ffeeebf5.jpg>

Index  
1\. Kizuna’s POV  
2\. Chrome’s POV  
3\. Emiliana’s POV  
4\. Dino’s POV  
5\. Romario’s POV  
\+ The Timoteo Scene

* * *

1\. Kizuna’s POV

This isn’t the first time they’ve worn this furisode, though it is the least controlled set of circumstances that they’ve done so. The outer layer had needed careful modification by a Mist seamstress and the inner layer replaced entirely; they were short by Asari standards, and the sleeves had been the full forty-five inches of an ōfurisode. (They’d tried to refuse the gift of the furisode, but Tsuyoshi-ojisama had insisted that it was theirs, and it would be a waste for them not to wear it, and that it would be their choice to gift it to either Takeshi-nii’s eldest daughter, or their own if she was Asari-natured.) “Bossu, do you need me to help you balance on your geta?”

“Yes please, Chrome-chan. And you don’t need to call me Bossu, or Kizuna-hime. Kyō-nii thought we’d fit well together; please call me Tsu-neko.”

“Hai. I’ll try, Bossu.” They sigh and Chrome smiles at her and ties the obi around their waist carefully, tying it in a practised knot. “There we go, Tsu-neko-hime. Shall we go and meet your new husband?” They nod, and takes a careful step; the Mist Flames curled around their geta help, ensuring they feel more like a soft slipper than anything else.

Chrome tucks the supplies that she’d used to help them into their furisode back into the Mist-expanded shoulder bag, and then opens the door of the elegant changing area. Gokudera-kun’s expression is highly gratifying; they’d travelled wearing something comfortable, and somewhat androgynous because that’s the mood they’d been in after playing the Asari-hime for Reborn-san. (They hope that Dino-san will be comfortable with them being androgyne within the privacy of their suites sometimes; Reborn had sworn he’d be okay with it, but after what had happened at Nami-chuu, they were nervous.)

“Lead the way, Gokudera-kun.” The silver-haired Storm-Cloud’s eyes remind her of Itō-kun’s before they’d persuaded the teen to come in from the cold and talked their Kyō-nii into training him. Their heart breaks a little bit for him; the exchange of language skills had shown they could have been Sky and Guardian, if not for the way their Flames refused to surface from beneath what they now knew was a Seal.

They walk across the international terminal, the crowds separating for them in an unsettling and unsubtle way and they try to ignore the anxiety it invokes. Gokudera-kun leads the way, his fingers flicking through a range of motions they recognise from their nii-sans when not allowed to have their preferred weapons in their hands. They’re left wondering what the other teen’s weapon of choice is, and whether he’ll enjoy being hunted by her oni-sama in six months or so.

The entrance to the private terminal is discreet, and Gokudera-kun hands their passports over with a soft glare, ushering them through the glass doors. The volume immediately drops from almost deafening to barely a murmur; the carpet under their feet probably helps with that. (Without Chrome-chan’s Mist Flames, their sense of balance, the thick pile carpet and the geta would be a bad combination.) “Still okay, Bossu?”

“I’m nervous, Chrome-chan. But I think I’m allowed to be, ne?”

“Hai. We can still run, Bossu.”

They laugh. “That’s why oniisama sent me with you, isn’t it?” Chrome nods, and she realises exactly what the Mist’s done as Gokudera-kun opens the next set of doors; their amusement makes stepping through into the private room far easier than their previous anxiety had.

There are a half dozen people inside the room; there are a tall red-headed woman and two men in suits against the back wall. They dismiss them - neither of the men is blond, and Reborn had said that his former student was golden-haired. “Konbanwa, Kizuna-hime.” The voice is a soft attractive baritone, and it drags their attention to the three people on the sofas. There’s a pair of girls on one of them, and a blond wearing a _very_ well-cut suit.

A blond in the process of rising from the sofa despite the darker haired of the two men covering his eyes and the giggles from the girls. (What had Reborn said? That Dino was clumsy when flustered or without his Guardians, and the Sun hadn’t been able to figure out how or why?)

“Good evening, Don Cavallone.” They incline their head carefully; in a different outfit, they might grace the man with a deeper bow. (They’d spent some of the time enroute to the airport mentally debating as to which of them had the higher status, and he did. Probably.)

“Welcome to Milan, Kizuna.” They can feel their cheeks heating as they lift their head; Dino Cavallone is even taller than their nii-sans. The suit fits him very, very well, and they can’t help but appreciate its cut. (And worry slightly; how would that even _fit_?)

When their eyes meet Dino’s, the tall blond has his Flames dancing in the back of his eyes and they didn’t realise how much they wanted access to their own Flames until he offered them without words.

"And thank you, Hayato; you did an excellent job.” Their escort bristles like an annoyed cat, and they sigh; Dino clearly tries something with his Flames, but it doesn’t work. Gokudera-kun was very clearly Cloudy and they wish they could soothe him. “May I introduce my ward Emiliana di Cavallone and her Mist, Enhydra, -“ without Gokudera-kun’s assistance, they would have been confused by the way Dino was naming them, “- my Guardians: Alyessa, my Lightning and senior herdswoman, and Romario, my consigliere -” the word doesn’t translate and it must show on their face, “- I believe the Japanese word would be wakagashira.”

“Arigatou, Dino-san. Gokudera-kun helped me with my Sicilian -” the l-sounds take a little concentration, but Chrome’s assistance helps, “- but that trick needs the donor to know how to translate the term.”

“And finally, my senior Mist -” they tilt their head, curious as to the way their husband is differentiating between those guarding his back, “- Bono di Cavallone. My senior Cloud is on the plane, and my Storm and senior Rain send their apologies; they couldn’t rearrange things on such short notice.” A soft «mrrr» comes from their husband’s pocket, making the two girls giggle again.

The tall redhead laughs. “I thought you left her on the plane with Nuvola, Boss.”

“So did I.” Their husband sounds almost rueful as he fishes in his pocket, retrieving a tiny kitten the colour of their hair. “I left her purring at Nuvola when I went to my meeting with the Minister.” The man their husband named as Romario facepalms even harder. They giggle. “This little one doesn’t have a name yet; she also appears to be Mistier than most of our cats are.” They blink in confusion. The kitten mrrrs and her husband puts her on his shoulder; his eyes slide past them to their companion.

“This one is named Chrome, Cavallone-dono. She was adopted by the Ōu-sama no Kumo after an unfortunate childhood and a bad accident. If this one is to be named in the Italian fashion, she would be known as Chrome di Hibari.”

“I hope you’ll find Sicily welcoming, Chrome. Please call me Dino, ne?”

“Ara. As long as Kizuna-hime is happy, Chrome-chan will be, Dino-sama. If Kizuna-hime manages to break past the barrier keeping her from being Active, she will be Chrome-chan’s Sky, and her happiness is Chrome-chan’s.” Their husband’s smile is glorious; Chrome shivers and goes quiet as he wraps Sky Flames around their cousin, offering comfort and reward, they suspect - he’d offered the same thing to Hayato - and it makes them feel warm inside. That action was very promising for their future relationship.

«Mrrr!» the sound is the only warning they get before the kitten leaps from their husband’s shoulder to theirs - it’s an impossible distance, but even they can feel her baby Flames aiding the prodigious jump - and headbutts them gently, purring like a tiny motor.

“May I call you ko-tenjō, little one?” The kitten headbutts their cheek again, and her Flames sort of settle against theirs in the way Chrome-chan’s had while they were on the flight. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The purring redoubles and they laugh, amused.

Their husband squeaks, patting his pockets and their husband’s Sky-ward giggles at the flailing. If Reborn hadn’t warned them about this aspect of their new husband’s personality they’d be startled. He finds what he’s looking for in his inside pocket and holds it out to them; it’s wrapped in a silk handkerchief, one decorated with a print of horses that makes them grin. They take it and untie the ribbon, and oh, that’s gorgeous. Far better than a necklace, or one of the other bride gifts he could offer, and they can feel the Flames flickering inside and hear the surprised gasps of her husband’s elements.

“It’s the Chatelaine of Villa Cavallone, Kizuna; you’re my Donna, and it’s designed to aid a non-Flame Active in managing the household. I thought, given what Reborn said, that it would help you feel more at home in Sicily. Nothing in my Villa is out of bounds to you when you’re wearing that, and all of my staff will accept your orders.” They rub their fingers over the silver, feeling the flames inside it; so old. Older even than Shigure Kintoki, and they approve of them in a way that startles them deeply. They loop the chain around their obi; the weight feels right.

“May I kiss you, husband?” He looks flustered, and they want to giggle. “I need to reward you for being so thoughtful, after all, Anata.” He blushes and it’s adorable. They step closer, going up on tiptoes, grateful for Chrome’s assistance with their geta and drag their husband down enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. They can _feel_ him flailing, and they take mercy on him, releasing his tie and stepping back.

“As much fun as it would be to take twenty minutes to watch Dino flail after that kiss, we have a take-off slot to make, Donna Kizuna.” Romario is looking at his BlackBerry and his voice is dry but there’s an amused undercurrent to it that makes them decide that they’ll probably like their husband’s Sun. “Our primary pilot is in the cockpit and we’re refuelled, but we can’t take off if we’re not onboard.” The Sun pauses, eyes flicking to the man Dino has described as his senior Mist. “And no, we’re not ‘jumping’ back to Siracusa, Bono; I know you can do it, but it’s right in the limits of your range and you don’t need to court exhaustion.”

“Aw. But I need the practise -“

“Do you _really_ want to deal with Nuvola once she arrives home four hours after we do?” The Mist shakes his head, much to their amusement. They certainly wouldn’t want to deliberately annoy their oniisan when he was feeling Cloudy. And they’re curious; what would their husband’s senior Cloud be like? “Hayato, you’re welcome to join us for the flight back to the estate, or I can book you on the evening commuter back to Palermo -“

“Che. Throw dinner in and I’ll join you." Their escort checks his own BlackBerry. “I assume Kizuna-hime’s cargo has already been transferred?” They giggle at the Storm-Cloud’s catlike behaviour; they want to pet his Flames until the teen relaxes.

“It has.” Gokudera-kun tucks his BlackBerry back into his pocket.

Dino offers them his arm, and they take it, allowing themselves to be led out of the discrete second set of doors, directly into the tarmac; there’s a mid-sized jet with a swing-down set of stairs. They’re not wide enough to climb two abreast, and they hesitate; Chrome’s Flames wrap gently around them, and they climb the stairs, Dino behind them. (Given Reborn’s comments they’re not sure how successful they’ll be trying to catch them, even with Romario and Alyessa present.)

The horse in the cabin is a surprise, right up until they feel the Cloud Flames almost as strong as their oniisan’s and on a par with their escort’s. “Nuvola-chan, I assume?” The mare nods, clearly amused.

Their husband steps in close behind them; they can feel his heat even through the thick fabric of their furisode. “Nuvola is one of the horses who call my estates home; many of them are Flame Active and I asked for a volunteer to be your riding mare when Romario told me you had several saddles in your trousseau.”

“She’s gorgeous.” The mare makes a sound that makes them giggle; it’s so clearly a sound of understanding that they’re amused. “I take it that being Flame Active takes them from sentient to sapient?” Nuvola nods, stepping close enough to nudge them and they rub their nose obligingly.

“It does.” The kitten on their shoulder mrrrs in agreement. “The little one you’re calling kotenjō is part of a cat colony on my lands; it has a number of Flame Active members. Her mother gave her to me to care for as she wasn’t thriving with her siblings.” The kitten rubs its head against their cheek again. “Though I think I might have been displaced in her affections.” Their husband sounds amused, which is a good sign. He tugs them over to the sofa - there’s inactive Mist Flames, presumably to substitute for seat belts - and when they’re sat, pulls them gently into his side in a way that makes them shiver ever so slightly.

“C’mon Nuvola; we’re due to take off and you’ll be much more comfortable in your stall.” Alyessa’s voice is no-nonsense and the mare complies. Romario shuts the aircraft door, the others settling into their seats; the cockpit door is open and they can hear the chatter as the pilot prepares to taxi the aircraft.

^ to Index

* * *

2\. Chrome’s POV

Once Kizuna-sama has stripped off their western-style clothes and tucked them into their bag, leaving them in just their bindings and fundoshi, she carefully helps her charge into her nagajuban, settling the fabric around Kizuna-sama’s thin form and securing it in place with a wide sash in the same pale orange as the lining of their furisode - and the Flames that her charge (her Sky) was unable to externally manifest - with that done, she kneels, pulling out thick-soled geta and tabi from her bag, and Kizuna-sama carefully lifts each foot in turn for her to put them on.

She stands back up, and reaches into her bag again, pulling out the furisode that Kyōya-onisama had handed to her, and shaking it carefully; it’s gorgeous, and at least a century old, the outer layer pale blue with a pattern of embroidered swallows and waves that very much embodied the Asari, the lining the same pale orange of the datejime she’d secured the nagajuban with. Kizuna-sama turns carefully and she helps them into it, ensuring that their nagajuban is properly placed, the collar with its silvery embroidery peeping out before she tucks it carefully into place, ensuring that Kizuna-sama’s tabi covered toes will peep out from beneath the pale silk.

“Bossu, do you need me to help you balance on your geta?” She’s seen Kizuna tumble down an entire flight of stairs when flustered, and it was entirely possible that their new husband would unintentionally _thoroughly_ fluster them.

“Yes please, Chrome-chan. And you don’t need to call me Bossu, or Kizuna-hime. Kyō-nii thought we’d fit well together; please call me Tsu-neko.”

“Hai. I’ll try, Bossu.” She wraps their obi around their waist, cheating with Mist Flames to get the knot perfect. (One of her favourite lessons from Kasumi-sama; it was so much easier to just to visualise the knot and trust her Flames rather than try to make her hands produce it.) “There we go, Tsu-neko-hime. Shall we go and meet your new husband?”

“Lead the way, Gokudera-kun.” Kizuna’s voice is soft and sweet, all of a sudden more feminine than it had been as they slide fully into the feminine presentation their furisode demands. She tweaks her own outfit slightly, using her Flames, adding a little formality to the outfit; she has her own standards to uphold. They take their position several steps behind her Sky - because Kizuna is her Sky, even if they can’t manifest their Flames; she felt it when she helped them learn Sicilian - and trails them through the international terminal, towards what she assumes is the lounge where they’ll meet Kizuna’s new husband.

They step through the discreet glass doors into what’s clearly the private terminal, and uses her Mist to murmur a question directly into Kizuna-sama’s ear. “Still okay, Bossu?”

“I’m nervous, Chrome-chan. But I think I’m allowed to be, ne?”

“Hai. We can still run, Bossu.” She makes the offer with a grin on her face, and Kizuna shakes their head and laughs.

“That’s why oniisama sent me with you, isn’t it?” She nods, and Kizuna relaxes, the tension leaving their small frame. They both step into the private lounge, her half a step behind them, and she surveys the room; there are two Skies, one younger than both her and Kizuna-sama, and the other the man she presumes is Kizuna-sama’s new husband. There are also two Mists, one clearly paired with the younger Sky, a Lightning and a Sun and a nebulous wisp of what could be the presence of a Misty-Sky.

“Konbanwa, Kizuna-hime.” The voice is a soft baritone, the Japanese lightly accented, and she puts a mental tick mark in Cavallone-dono’s favour; he clearly had a reasonable grasp of Japanese. His pronunciation was excellent, he’d known to use one of the less well known greetings, and he’d offered Kizuna an honorific that he clearly meant. (And was appropriate to how they were currently presenting themself, too.)

“Good evening, Don Cavallone." Kizuna-sama offers a nod and dip of their shoulders that, given the furisode and the width of the obi she’d wrapped them in, had to be considered as respectful as the ‘hime’ honorific.

“Welcome to Milan, Kizuna.” She wants to protest the lack of honorific, but Cavallone-dono had switched languages, and both of them were blushing and they were going to be completely hopeless, weren’t they? Even more hopeless than she and Kyōya-onisama had been when they’d discussed her offer to be his surrogate when she’d realised his preferences. Neither of them had been able to look at each other for _weeks_. Curious Sky Flames brush against hers, and she makes a tiny sound before they withdraw a little. "And thank you, Hayato; you did an excellent job.” She realises why they’ve withdrawn when their Cloudy escort bristles, and she shakes her head in amusement; she wonders if Kyōya-onisama will be just as catlike when Reborn-san’s new student meets him. She wants to be _just_ close enough to watch without being in the fall-out zone when it happens. “May I introduce my ward Emiliana di Cavallone and her Mist Enhydra, my Guardians: Alyessa, my Lightning and senior herdswoman, and Romario, my consigliere - I believe the Japanese word would be wakagashira.” She identifies each of the named individuals as they nod and murmur their own greetings.

“Arigatou, Dino-san. Gokudera-kun helped me with my Sicilian, but that trick needs the donor to know how to translate the term.”

“And finally, my senior Mist, Bono di Cavallone. My senior Cloud is on the plane, and my Storm and senior Rain send their apologies; they couldn’t rearrange things on such short notice." Oh. Oh that made sense; the Lightning and the Sun in the room had full, robust Guardian bonds, like the one that Kasumi-sama had to her Sky, whereas the Mist had a lesser-but-comfortable bond that could act as an anchor and was definitely created of their own free will.

«Mrrr» The Misty-Sky Flames make themselves clearer, and she eyes Cavallone-dono’s squirming pocket, the two giggling pre-teens and the facepalming Sun and Lightning. “I thought you left her on the plane with Nuvola, Boss." The Lightning’s voice is thoroughly amused.

“So did I.” Cavallone-dono sounds almost rueful as he pulls a kitten out of their pocket. “I left her purring at Nuvola when I went to my meeting with the Minister.” She giggles as the Sun manages to facepalm even _harder_ as Cavallone-dono places the kitten on his shoulder, and strokes her gently. “This little one doesn’t have a name yet; she also appears to be Mistier than most of our cats are.”

She blinks, and then shakes her head; she’s the only one in the room that hadn’t been introduced and Kyōya-onisama had put her on the flight without asking anyone’s permission and charged her with protecting Kizuna-sama. She bows deeply and introduces herself. “This one is named Chrome, Cavallone-dono. She was adopted by the Ōu-sama no Kumo after an unfortunate childhood and a bad accident. If this one is to be named in the Italian fashion, she would be known as Chrome di Hibari.”

“I hope you’ll find Sicily welcoming, Chrome. Please call me Dino, ne?”

“Ara. As long as Kizuna-hime is happy, Chrome-chan will be, Dino-sama. If Kizuna-hime manages to break past the barrier keeping her from being Active, she will be Chrome-chan’s Sky, and her happiness is Chrome-chan’s.” Dino-sama wraps his Flames around her; there’s no demand in the gesture, just welcome. It’s comfort and reward and reassurance, and everything she feels tells her that he’s a good man, and hopefully, he’ll be a good husband to her Sky.

«Mrrr!» Ah. So the kitten was the source of the Misty-Sky Flames; the leap from Cavallone-dono’s shoulder to Kizuna’s is definitely Flame assisted, and she reflexively steadies the kitten and protects the silk of the furisode. The kitten perches on her Sky’s shoulder, purring fit to burst, and butts their cheek gently, making them giggle. “May I call you ko-tenjō, little one?” Her Sky asks, the kitten nodding in answer, and she feels the almost harmonisation. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The purring redoubles, and it’s adorable.

Cavallone-dono’s Flames feel almost panicked and definitely flustered, and Emiliana-chan - the baby Sky - giggles at her senpai as he searches through his pockets. He finally pulls what he’s searching for from the inside pocket of his suit, and she’s deeply curious; whatever is inside the silk handkerchief, it’s at least as powerful and ancient as Kintoki-dono. He hands it to Kizuna-sama, and they open it curiously; it’s clearly intended as a morganatic gift.

“It’s the Chatelaine of Villa Cavallone, Kizuna; you’re my Donna, and it’s designed to aid a non-Flame Active in managing the household. I thought, given what Reborn said, that it would help you feel more at home in Sicily. Nothing in my Villa is out of bounds to you when you’re wearing that, and all of my staff will accept your orders.” Their Sky loops the item around their obi carefully, as if it’s an obi-dome, letting it hang down, and she gets her first proper glimpse of it; it’s an amazing piece, and she can feel the Flames curled in it - shadows of almost a hundred Skies’ Wills - and it makes it clear that he both wants to make their marriage _work_ and understands Kizuna’s value.

“May I kiss you, husband?” She blinks, startled by Kizuna-hime’s forwardness; she hadn’t expected her charge to be the one who made the first request for intimacy, and Cavallone-dono blushes, absolutely adorably. “I need to reward you for being so thoughtful, after all, Anata.” Kizuna goes up on tiptoes and it really is just as well she’s assisting them with their balance, because they have to go up on their very tip-toes _and_ stretch to manage it. If she hadn’t been helping them, they’d have toppled forward as they dragged him down just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. Once Kizuna-hime’s pressed that relatively chaste kiss on their husband, they step back, both of them blushing furiously.

“As much fun as it would be to take twenty minutes to watch Dino flail after that kiss, we have a take-off slot to make, Donna Kizuna.” The Sun is looking at his BlackBerry rather than at them, but his amusement is quite clear in his Flames.“Our primary pilot is in the cockpit and we’re refuelled, but we can’t take off if we’re not onboard.” Mist Flames twitch, and she tries to figure out what the other Mist is gathering their Flames to do; it feels familiar, but she can’t place her finger on it. “And no, we’re not ‘jumping’ back to Siracusa, Bono; I know you can do it, but it’s right in the limits of your range and you don’t need to court exhaustion.”

“Aw. But I need the practice -“ Ah. It was a transportation technique; she’d have to see if Kizuna-hime could arrange for her to swap techniques with the man.

“Do you _really_ want to deal with Nuvola once she arrives home four hours after we do?” She blinks, translating the word. ‘Cloud’: that was a rather literal name. Maybe it was a code name, like when onisama was addressed as Nippon no Kumo? The Sun looks up from his BlackBerry, Flames flickering in a way intended to grab a Cloud’s attention; she’d seen Sasagawa-san use it when he wanted to spar with her onisama. “Hayato, you’re welcome to join us for the flight back to the estate, or I can book you on the evening commuter back to Palermo -“

“Che. Throw dinner in and I’ll join you." She wants to giggle; perhaps she’ll have to give Romario-san Cloud-wrangling lessons? Kasumi-sama had taught her how to manage the Flame-type using her onisama as an almost perfect exemplar of their type; the techniques would probably even work on those with a strong secondary Cloud Flame. “I assume Kizuna-hime’s cargo has already been transferred?”

“It has.” The Storm-Cloud slips his cellphone back in his pocket, and Cavallone-sama offers her charge his arm; the Sun looks slightly sceptical - she didn’t think he disapproved of the gesture, more that he was somewhat concerned about his Sky’s ability to avoid humiliating himself; Reborn-san had said Cavallone-dono was more than a little clumsy at times, which made him and Kizuna-hime a pair.

She and the Sun trail behind their Skies, both amused, as they exit it onto the tarmac, and make it safely to the foot of the steps to what is _clearly_ Cavallone-dono’s plane; the tail art matches the chatelaine’s amber intaglio almost perfectly. She wraps her Flames around her charge gently, steadying them as they climb up the stairs, keeping the heavy silk of their furisode out of the way of their geta as they make it into the cabin and squeak. When she climbs them herself, she almost laughs; she’d felt the waiting Cloud Flames, but hadn’t anticipated that they might belong to another Flame Active animal. Kizuna-hime also looks - and feels - amused when she says “Nuvola-chan, I assume?”

The horse nods, and radiates amusement; Cavallone-dono steps up close to Kizuna-hime, and she tilts her head, assessing their interaction; her Sky clearly feels comfortable with their husband pressed to their back. “Nuvola is one of the horses who call my estates home; many of them are Flame Active and I asked for a volunteer to be your riding mare when Romario told me you had several saddles in your trousseau.” That was another tick mark in Cavallone-dono’s favor; she remembers Kizuna-hime before her onisama and Tsuyoshi-sama intervened, and anyone who can pamper and make them smile so easily has _potential_.

“She’s gorgeous.” Kizuna-hime sounds genuinely reverent. “I take it that being Flame Active takes them from sentient to sapient?”

“It does.” The mare steps close enough to nudge her Sky, and Kizuna obliges, raising their hand to rub their nose. “The little one you’re calling kotenjō is part of a cat colony on my lands; it has a number of Flame Active members. Her mother gave her to me to care for as she wasn’t thriving with her siblings. Though I think I might have been displaced in her affections.” Cavallone-sama feels and sounds highly amused, and he draws their Sky over to the sofa, coaxing them into sitting down next to him.

“C’mon Nuvola; we’re due to take off and you’ll be much more comfortable in your stall.” The Lightning’s voice is no-nonsense, and the mare complies, moving back through the aircraft, and Romario shuts the door, and they all settle into the available seats and buckle up as the plane starts to taxi.

^ to Index

* * *

3\. Emiliana’s POV

Alyessa herds the two of them into the private lounge, showing the security guard some sort of ID card; the room is luxurious, and Enhydra laughs and drags her over to one of the sofas. They both tumble onto it giggling; while they hadn’t bought much, they’d thoroughly enjoyed their couple of hours strolling down the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II window shopping. “I can design something that’s much more you, Emi, and dress you in it to show one of the family seamstresses. And I really don’t regret punching Leonardo.”

She snickers. “Neither do, but I almost wish you’d killed him, just to see what your zio thought was an appropriate reward.”

“No, you don’t. And given zio has promised me the sword lessons he refused to give me before -“ Enhydra leans into her affectionately and she wraps her Flames around her Mist in reciprocation. “- it’s almost six, Alyessa; are Don Cavallone and Romario enroute, or do we need to get ready to greet Donna Kizuna in his place?”

“Good question; let me check.” Her Don’s Lightning pulls a BlackBerry from her thigh pocket and sends a message; she gets one back almost immediately. “Good news. They’re pulling into the terminal car park.” The redhead slides it back into her pocket and grins at them. “We’ll have to get you two your own BlackBerrys, if only so you can stay up to date with what mischief is going on.”

“Oh?” She’s curious now.

“The Family BBM group is highly entertaining, if only for the running log of Dino’s fails and flails, Emiliana.” Alyessa _had_ to be joking, right? Dino has been amazing at the Academy that morning, and she’d never seen him anything less than immaculate. “Though now that we’ve got picture messaging enabled, there’s a lot more pictures of baby Flame Active animals mixed in, too.”

The groundside door to the lounge opens and she feels Alyessa and Enhydra’s Flames flare to combat readiness and then settle back down again as Romario and Bono escort Dino into the room. “How did the meeting with the Minister go, Dino?”

“Well enough. She agreed to the new school, and is willing to champion the clinic, especially since I want it to provide comprehensive women’s services and I’m willing to enforce that. And we finally got the two denominazione di origine controllata certifications we applied for three years ago approved.”

“The wine from our vineyards and …?”

“The horses; I forgot that you weren’t officially either my Lightning or my senior herdswoman when we put the application in; the horses - including the wild mountain herds we use for out-crosses - are now officially protected as the Siciliana indigene du Cavallone. We’ll have to send some of the more energetic Mists up to mark the mountain herds in the next few months.”

“As long as you remind them not to annoy our newest non-human Sky in the process; I’m not sure who would win between the Mists you’re thinking of and the sounder matriarch.” Alyessa’s voice is amused when she responds to Dino; their Don salutes her in acknowledgement, and then pulls out his BlackBerry, tapping a quick message into the device. It buzzes almost instantly, and he crosses to the second sofa, sprawling inelegantly and tapping out his own one-word reply.

“Did you have a good afternoon on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, Emiliana, Enhydra?” She nods, and her Mist bounces.

“I got _lots_ of ideas. Do you have any seamstresses that take requests, Don Cavallone? Mamma thought that it was too plebian a skill for me to acquire.”

“Dino, please, Enhydra. And there are several who’ll happily accept an illusion as a dress pattern; I also know of one or two of them who would be more than happy to teach you if you want, too.” Enhydra throws herself at their Don and hugs him, making him squeak and ruffle her hair. “And you don’t have to listen to her unless you want to now, little one; your only job as one of my own is to be happy.” Her Mist releases Dino and throws herself back on the sofa next to her.

“You have the _best_ Don, Emiliana. I made a good choice of Sky.” She laughs, and wraps her Flames back around her Mist. “You know, you’ve been enjoying human anatomy but in a non-murderous sort of way; you might like practising medicine, Emi.”

“If you want to try the medical track you can, Emiliana; it’s normally for Suns, but it’s not unheard of for other Flame types to take it.” Her Don brushes Flames against hers, a reassurance that there would be no compulsion to make a choice. “Having one of the Family’s Skies running the clinic would be good for the Family in the long run, though.” She hums thoughtfully.

“I’ll give it a try. Everyone deserves good health care, and I want to do _something_ for the Family, Dino.”

“I’ll talk to the school before you return, Emiliana.” His lips curve. “Reborn owes me a favour; Sky and Mist have more in common that Sun and Sky, so Shamal might have some useful tricks to teach you. And he knows better than to misbehave on our lands.” She squeaks. It’s an amazing offer, and she flails a bit internally. The BlackBerry buzzes, and he sits up; the bouncy eagerness in his Flames has her sitting up too, and her Mist pretending to be the perfect princess she normally hates to imitate.

The doors open slowly, and she recognises the silver-haired hitman and twitches, worried, but her Mist feels amused, so she stays seated. Enhydra leans over and murmurs in her ear. “That’s Hayato; he’s a cousin but we can’t persuade him to take the name. His father did a number on him. I didn’t realise he was so Cloudy, though; it explains a lot.” The doors open more fully revealing the most beautiful woman she’s _ever_ seen, in an exquisite kimono, and a woman wearing a style she doesn’t recognise, but _wants_. Wants enough to defy her parents’ idea of what her clothes should look like. (She was an Active with a Guardian; didn’t that mean she didn’t have to listen to anyone but Dino, too?)

“Konbanwa, Kizuna-hime.” It’s definitely a greeting - the way Dino’s pushed up off the sofa makes that clear - but she doesn’t have any Japanese and she resigns herself to being excluded from the conversation and drinking in the two women’s clothes the way she’d window shopped that afternoon.

“Good evening, Don Cavallone.” She breathes a sigh of relief as Donna Kizuna responds in lightly accented Italian, and nods her head in a gesture that seems respectful, even if it wasn’t the curtsey her Mamma would have expected of her this morning.

“Welcome to Milan, Kizuna.” Dino’s eyes flick to Hayato, Flames wrapping around the unattached Cloud with aching care, clearly wanting to bring him into their Harmony and she’s unsure whether he’ll be any more successful than Enhydra’s relatives have been; she’s been warned over and over again she might not find a Cloud willing to be _hers_ , and that not doing so wouldn’t make her any less of a Sky. "And thank _you_ , Hayato; you did an excellent job.” The way the Cloud reacts says that he doesn’t get praised anywhere enough, which is sad, and makes her want to reach out to him, too, but she doesn’t because he’s clearly rejecting Dino’s Flames. Which makes her want to shake him and ask _why_ ; Dino’s a good Don!

“May I introduce my ward Emiliana di Cavallone and her Mist, Enhydra, my Guardians: Alyessa, my Lightning and senior herdswoman, and Romario, my consigliere-“ Dino pauses for a moment at the flicker of confusion that passes over Donna Kizuna’s pretty face - ”I believe the Japanese word would be wakagashira.”

“Arigatou, Dino-san. Gokudera-kun helped me with my Sicilian, but that trick needs the donor to know how to translate the term.”

“And finally, my senior Mist, Bono di Cavallone. My senior Cloud is on the plane, and my Storm and senior Rain send their apologies; they couldn’t rearrange things on such short notice." She barely avoids giggling at the way Dino is talking _around_ Nuvola’s presence; how is he planning to explain the mare being on the plane? «Mrrr» Her giggles escape her; she doubts anyone will blame her given the look of surprise on her Don’s face and the frantically wriggling pocket of his coat.

“I thought you left her on the plane with Nuvola, Boss.” Alyessa sounds thoroughly amused.

“So did I.” Dino sounds rueful as he extracts the little Sky kitten she’d been introduced to from his pocket.

Enhydra leans in and murmurs in her ear. «That’s because we did; she’s Misty, and has figured out the transport trick.» She only giggles harder. This was going to get hilarious; she couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than a teleporting kitten.

“I left her purring at Nuvola when I went to my meeting with the Minister.” Donna Kizuna’s giggling too, and it’s infectious; even without Active Flames, it was very clear that she was a sweet, soft-flamed Sky. She just wanted to make her happy. “This little one doesn’t have a name yet; she also appears to be Mistier than most of our cats are.” Dino puts the cat up on her shoulder and turns to the Mist with Donna Kizuna - the one whose clothes she wanted to steal - with curiosity in his eyes.

The woman bows deeply, reaching almost a ninety degree angle. “This one is named Chrome, Cavallone-dono. She was adopted by the Ōu-sama no Kumo after an unfortunate childhood and a bad accident. If this one is to be named in the Italian fashion, she would be known as Chrome di Hibari.”

“I hope you’ll find Sicily welcoming, Chrome. Please call me Dino, ne?” Chrome rises from her bow, Flames flickering in her eyes. She thinks she’s actually challenging Dino in a way, but she’s not sure she understands _how_.

“Ara. As long as Kizuna-hime is happy, Chrome-chan will be, Dino-sama. If Kizuna-hime manages to break past the barrier keeping her from being Active, she will be Chrome-chan’s Sky, and her happiness is Chrome-chan’s.” Dino’s Flames fill the room all over again, rising in a warm comforting wave that feels exactly like the way he’d hugged her when she’d thrown herself at him at the Academy that morning.

«Mrrr!» There’s another flare of the little kitten’s Flames, and she launches herself from Dino’s shoulder, tiny wings flickering into existence briefly, extending the jump and then she’s landing on Donna Kizuna’s shoulder, where she perches and purrs like a tiny motorboat. It makes Donna Kizuna giggle, too. “May I call you ko-tenjō, little one?” The kitten butts her head against Donna Kizuna’s cheek in what’s clearly meant to be an agreement to the nickname, and she’s curious as to its meaning. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She giggles as her Don checks all of his pockets, performing a very familiar ‘oh fuck where did I put the thing I need’ dance, finally finding the item in the inside pocket of his suit, and pulling it out before offering it to Donna Kizuna. It’s wrapped in a silk handkerchief, and Donna Kizuna undoes it carefully, gasping as she sees what’s inside; that leaves her intensely curious.

“It’s the Chatelaine of Villa Cavallone, Kizuna; you’re my Donna, and it’s designed to aid a non-Flame Active in managing the household. I thought, given what Reborn said, that it would help you feel more at home in Sicily. Nothing in my Villa is out of bounds to you when you’re wearing that, and all of my staff will accept your orders.” Oooh. Her Don really, really wanted this to work. She’d only seen it in some of the paintings in the villa, and they really don’t convey the beauty of the piece. Or its _presence_. It feels like there’s a hundred Skies like her Don waiting to help, two rooms over. It’s a very _protective_ feeling, and it makes it clear that Dino really, really wants his Donna to be happy and safe.

“May I kiss you, husband?” Donna Kizuna pauses, a grin on her face, and she bounces in place; she wants to see this! It’s going to be so sweet, especially given the way her Don is blushing bright red. “I need to reward you for being so thoughtful, after all, Anata.” Donna Kizuna goes up on tip toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of her Don’s mouth, just as red as Dino and the two of them had completely reset her standards for what she expected from any future partners. If they’d kissed properly, she’s fairly sure everyone in the room would have spontaneously combusted. They were too cute, and given the way Enhydra’s blushing, she agrees.

“As much fun as it would be to take twenty minutes to watch Dino flail after that kiss, we have a take-off slot to make, Donna Kizuna.” Romario is _mean_. “Our primary pilot is in the cockpit and we’re refuelled, but we can’t take off if we’re not onboard.” Bono makes a non-verbal suggestion, gathering his Flames in a way that feels like the moment before Maria had ‘dragged’ them from the Academy back to the Villa. “And no, we’re not ‘jumping’ back to Siracusa, Bono; I know you can do it, but it’s right in the limits of your range and you don’t need to court exhaustion.”

“Aw. But I need the practise -“ the protest is genuine.

“Do you _really_ want to deal with Nuvola once she arrives home four hours after we do?” She giggles again; the mare would be so mad if she was denied the opportunity to meet her new friend. “Hayato, you’re welcome to join us for the flight back to the estate, or I can book you on the evening commuter back to Palermo -“

“Che. Throw dinner in and I’ll join you." Hayato pauses, then asks Romario a question. “I assume Kizuna-hime’s cargo has already been transferred?”

“It has.” Hayato hums in acknowledgement, and then Dino offers his Donna an arm, and she goes gooey all over again as Kizuna takes it, and they head out to the aircraft.

^ to Index

* * *

4\. Dino’s POV

His BlackBerry buzzes, and he checks it, raising his eyebrow at the peremptory message. «Where the fuck are you?» He snorts and taps back a response; her timing was exquisite. And typical. They’ve just pulled back into the terminal car park, and he shoves the device back into his pocket as Romario opens the vehicle door.

“It’s just Alyessa being impatient.”

“Why am I not surprised? She has all the virtues and vices of her Flame, and most of the time, they’re the same thing.”

“_Cruel_. But accurate.” He brushes himself down, settling his trench coat and fussing slightly at his suit and tie. (It was a little after 6; he knew that it would take Kizuna time to get off of their flight, but he was nervous, damnit, and Romario’s amusement wasn’t helping).

He’s not surprised to find his new ward sprawled on one of the sofas, her Mist half in her lap - in fact, he’s fairly sure that the two of them will be _more_ than just Sky and Mist given the way they bonded, and they’ll be adorable - and Alyessa pacing. She stops when she sees him, and grins. “How did the meeting with the Minister go, Dino?”

“Well enough. She agreed to the new school, and is willing to champion the clinic, especially since I want it to provide comprehensive women’s services and I’m willing to enforce that.” Which had been Alyessa’s request; she’d come to him in tears when the two most local clinics had refused her birth control, and he’d been outraged to learn that that was _entirely_ legal. His Lightning grants him an absolutely dazzling smile and he wraps his Flames around her and indulges in secondhand happiness for a brief moment. “And we finally got the two denominazione di origine controllata certifications we applied for three years ago approved.”

“The wine from our vineyards and …?” Alyessa sounds puzzled, and he makes an amused sound.

“The horses; I forgot that you weren’t officially either my Lightning or my senior herdswoman when we put the application in; the horses - including the wild mountain herds we use for out-crosses - are now officially protected as the Siciliana indigene du Cavallone. We’ll have to send some of the more energetic Mists up to mark the mountain herds in the next few months.”

“As long as you remind them not to annoy our newest non-human Sky in the process; I’m not sure who would win between the Mists you’re thinking of and the sounder matriarch.” His Lightning sounds highly amused. She’s right though; some of his Mists were natural-born troublemakers and he would need to lay down the law with them before letting them loose.

He pulls his BlackBerry out and taps out an impatient message to Smoking Bomb. «Where are you?»

His BlackBerry buzzes almost immediately, the soft tone he’d set for Smoking Bomb, and he crosses to the second sofa and throws himself down on it before he checks the message. «Freshening up; it’s a long flight, Cavallone. And where the fucking hell did you get my BBM handle, anyway?»

He snickers and responds. «Shamal»

He puts his BlackBerry back in his pocket and sits up properly, turning his attention and Flames to his ward, making both of them sit up properly. “Did you have a good afternoon on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, Emiliana, Enhydra?”

Squalo’s niece bounces in the most adorable way; she’s clearly got a new obsession and a Sky to make happy. “I got _lots_ of ideas. Do you have any seamstresses that take requests, Don Cavallone? Mamma thought that it was too plebian a skill for me to acquire.” He almost snarls; how the hell had Squalo’s brother married such a _bitch_? He didn’t normally describe women that way, but Enhydra sounds so tentative in her request that she’s clearly been berated about wanting things that her mother disapproved of.

“Dino, please, Enhydra. And there are several who’ll happily accept an illusion as a dress pattern; I also know of one or two of them who would be more than happy to teach you if you want, too.” He suddenly has an arm full of ecstatic Mist and he hugs her reflexively and ruffles her hair, offering some comfort to her. “And you don’t have to listen to her unless you want to now, little one; your only job as one of my own is to be happy.” Enhydra nods against his chest and then squirms out of his arms and throws herself back down next to his ward.

“You have the _best_ Don, Emiliana. I made a good choice of Sky.” The Mist pauses, leaning into her Sky. “You know, you’ve been enjoying human anatomy but in a non-murderous sort of way; you might like practising medicine, Emi.”

“If you want to try the medical track you can, Emiliana; it’s normally for Suns, but it’s not unheard of for other Flame types to take it.” He brushes his Flames against Emiliana’s, trying to ensure that she knows it’s entirely _her_ choice as to whether she undertakes that role. “Having one of the Family’s Skies running the clinic would be good for the Family in the long run, though.” His ward makes a sound of acknowledgement.

“I’ll give it a try. Everyone deserves good health care, and I want to do _something_ for the Family, Dino.”

“I’ll talk to the school before you return, Emiliana.” He smiles at her, and taps something into his BlackBerry as a reminder. “Reborn owes me a favour; Sky and Mist have more in common than Sun and Sky, so Shamal might have some useful tricks to teach you. And he knows better than to misbehave on our lands.” Emiliana squeaks, and flails and it’s _adorable_. His BlackBerry buzzes in his hand, a notification that Kizuna’s arrived at the terminal-side security door and he sits up straight. His Flames escape his control, eager and bouncy and excited to meet the person Reborn thinks will be an _excellent_ match for him. (Because he couldn’t have signed off the proxy marriage if he didn’t truly believe it was.)

The doors open _far_ too slowly as far as he’s concerned; Reborn sent him pictures of his new bride, but they were more of a tease than anything else. (A very pleasant tease; he hoped they’d appreciate him aesthetically as much as he did them. He was hoping that they’d _eventually_ manage to have a _very_ fulfilling marriage, despite it being arranged.)

Smoking Bomb enters first, turning back to open the door fully, and he’s almost floored. He’d known that Kizuna’s presentation could be fluid, but he hadn’t expected them to greet him dressed as what Reborn had warned him they were: a princess of an ancient Japanese Clan. They were _beautiful_.

“Konbanwa, Kizuna-hime.” He stumbles through the greeting, relieved when he manages to both get the Japanese out comprehensibly _and_ stand up at the same time.

“Good evening, Don Cavallone.” Kizuna graces him with what he knows is a fairly deep bow considering how formally they’re dressed, and he feels a blush heat his cheeks despite his best efforts, and he leans into his Flames to give himself some stability.

Kizuna’s voice is soft, and sweet, and arousal bubbles in the bottom of his stomach, his cock stiffening a little in interest as he feels their eyes track over it.

“Welcome to Milan, Kizuna.” When they lift their head, they’re blushing too, and that only makes his own cheeks heat further, and his arousal deepens a little further, and he viciously tamps down on that hunger.

To distract himself, he turns to Smoking Bomb; "And thank you, Hayato; you did an excellent job.” The Storm-Cloud - and he was definitely a Cloud; the way he bristles under his gentle Flame touch makes that quite clear, which is at complete odds with his generally known profile - turns his head and he suppresses a sigh; he really did want to offer the teen a home. His Flames _ache_ for him in a way that suggested Hayato might actually be a guardian candidate. Putting that to one side, he turns back to his bride, his cock quiescent again, and tries to decide how to make introductions. Starting with Emiliana was probably the safest bet, and he smiles at Kizuna and gestures to her.

“May I introduce my ward Emiliana di Cavallone and her Mist, Enhydra, my Guardians: Alyessa, my Lightning and senior herdswoman, and Romario, my consigliere -“ he pauses when Kizuna looks confused, and searches for the right word, not surprised that he’d hit a word they couldn’t parse, ”- I believe the Japanese word would be wakagashira.”

“Arigatou, Dino-san. Gokudera-kun helped me with my Sicilian, but that trick needs the donor to know how to translate the term.” And had other limitations, too; he’d have to make sure to watch for her getting confused and ensure she had someone fluent in Japanese around.

“And finally, my senior Mist, Bono di Cavallone. My senior Cloud is on the plane, and my Storm and senior Rain send their apologies; they couldn’t rearrange things on such short notice." Reno was tangled up with the other half of the conversation he’d had that morning in Siracusa; showing off the recycling plant to a carefully selected group of individuals so it could be signed off as operational without giving away that the hard work was done by the Storms he directed rather than the machines.

His pocket weighs at least a pound and a half more than it should do, and he barely manages to avoid facepalming; he’d dearly hoped that the kitten Queenie had handed him hadn’t learnt any of her mother’s more interesting tricks, but apparently he’d run out of luck for the day. «Mrrr» Emiliana and Enhydra both burst into giggles, and he really doesn’t blame them. (Considering everything, a mischievous kitten with a bag of Flame tricks was probably the least worst way karma could decide to bite him.)

“I thought you left her on the plane with Nuvola, Boss.” Alyessa sounds thoroughly amused.

“So did I.” He’d even explained to her why she’d needed to wait with his Cloudy-mare. “I left her purring at Nuvola when I went to my meeting with the Minister.” Kizuna giggles, a sweet sound (oh god, he’s completely besotted, isn’t he?). “This little one doesn’t have a name yet; she also appears to be Mistier than most of our cats are.” He puts the kitten up on his shoulder and raises an interrogative eyebrow at his new wife’s very Misty companion. (She might actually be stronger than Bono; not that it matters, but it says a lot about the allies this impromptu marriage has brought with it.)

“This one is named Chrome, Cavallone-dono. She was adopted by the Ōu-sama no Kumo after an unfortunate childhood and a bad accident. If this one is to be named in the Italian fashion, she would be known as Chrome di Hibari.” The Mist’s bow is so deep that it almost makes him frown; he’d have to ask his wife for more of the woman’s story if Chrome was going to stay. If he understood correctly, she was the adopted daughter of the most senior Cloud in Japan, and adopted sister to the strongest Japanese Cloud, to boot, so why was she speaking in the third person and abasing herself?

“I hope you’ll find Sicily welcoming, Chrome. Please call me Dino, ne?”

“Ara. As long as Kizuna-hime is happy, Chrome-chan will be, Dino-sama. If Kizuna-hime manages to break past the barrier keeping her from being Active, she will be Chrome-chan’s Sky, and her happiness is Chrome-chan’s.” He sighs mentally and wraps his Sky around her, offering his gratitude for escorting Kizuna, and warmth and comfort and a Home; his wife couldn’t and he considered it part of his duties to act in their place where they couldn’t. Hopefully, he’d be able to convince Chrome of that eventually.

«Mrrr!» The kitten on his shoulder gathers her Flames, and he flares his trying to stop whatever it is she’d trying to attempt, but she launches herself from his shoulder, tiny wings - just like her mothers - flashing briefly into existence and beating two or three times before she lands on his wife’s shoulder and the wings vanish again. She perches on Kizuna’s shoulder, purring fit to burst, and his wife laughs sweetly again. “May I call you ko-tenjō, little one?” The kitten nods, and he’s fairly sure he’s been displaced in the kitten’s affections. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He flails mentally, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to remember. Oh! He’d brought the chatelaine with him to give to Kizuna, hadn’t he? Where had he put it? It was in one of his pockets; he’d had to take it out when the Minister’s bodyguards had checked him for weapons. He knew he’d put it back, but which of his pockets was it in? He finally finds what he’s searching for in his inside pocket - he blames Bono, his Mist had made some of his pockets _odd_ \- and offers the small silk-wrapped object to his new wife with a smile. (Perhaps a ring would have been more traditional, but this had more _meaning_ , and was the ultimate sign of trust from a Sky of their line to their wife, and would work for as well for a merely Flame Aware wife as for a Flame Active one.) They react exactly the way he’d hoped, clearly understanding what he was offering them and _why_.

“It’s the Chatelaine of Villa Cavallone, Kizuna; you’re my Donna, and it’s designed to aid a non-Flame Active in managing the household. I thought, given what Reborn said, that it would help you feel more at home in Sicily. Nothing in my Villa is out of bounds to you when you’re wearing that, and all of my staff will accept your orders.” Kizuna rubs their fingers over the silver, and the Flames inside it react in welcome and approval; they blush softly in response, looping the chain through their obi, so the chatelaine hangs from it like it was made to do so. It looks very, very good on them. Like it was made for them.

“May I kiss you, husband?” The question - and the soft ‘husband’ - surprise him so much he’s left _speechless_. “I need to reward you for being so thoughtful, after all, Anata.” He nods, and they go up on tiptoes and kiss the corner of his mouth, and he feels his blush shift from pink to _scarlet_. He wants to grab them and crush them to himself, and kiss them properly, possibly even dipping them, but restrains himself, limiting himself to wrapping his Flames around them in an affectionate gesture.

“As much fun as it would be to take twenty minutes to watch Dino flail after that kiss, we have a take-off slot to make, Donna Kizuna.” Amusement ripples along his bond with Romario and he whines at how mean his Sun is. But he’s right. “Our primary pilot is in the cockpit and we’re refuelled, but we can’t take off if we’re not onboard.” Bono’s Flames gather, but Romario twists his own to disrupt them, and scowls at his senior Mist. “And no, we’re not ‘jumping’ back to Siracusa, Bono; I know you can do it, but it’s right in the limits of your range and you don’t need to court exhaustion.”

“Aw. But I need the practise -“

“Do you _really_ want to deal with Nuvola once she arrives home four hours after we do?” Romario’s voice is dry, and he can feel his Sun’s amusement, and Bono’s chagrin. “Hayato, you’re welcome to join us for the flight back to the estate, or I can book you on the evening commuter back to Palermo -“

“Che. Throw dinner in and I’ll join you." Smoking Bomb hesitates, and checks his BlackBerry. “I assume Kizuna-hime’s cargo has already been transferred?”

“It has.” He offers his arm to his wife, who blushes and takes it, allowing themself to be led out towards the tarmac. (He’s absolutely and totally head over heels for them and he’s _terrified_.)

^ to Index

* * *

5\. Romario’s POV

He taps something into his BlackBerry, and gets a response from the automatic flight tracker he’s using to track Smoking Bomb and his ‘package’; given that they’ve started to descend into Milan, he needs to get his Sky to wrap up the discussion with the Minister - he’s almost willing to wish he’d taken Emiliana and Enhydra shopping and left Alyessa with the task of herding Dino - sighing, he leans forward, and taps his Don’s arm. “The Contessa’s flight is coming into land, Dino. We should return to the airport to meet her.”

“The Contessa -?” The Minster raises her eyebrow questioningly. “- I thought your mother was dead, Conte Cavallone.”

“She is; I’ve married. Kizuna is a sweetheart, but circumstances delayed their arrival in Italy, including the fulfilling the obligations associated with their natal rank, Minister.”

“And I didn’t get an invitation to the ceremony?” He’s not entirely sure whether the Minister’s serious or not, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Ah. We’ve not had an Italian ceremony yet, Minister, and it’ll be up to Kizuna when we do; we’ve wed under Japanese law.”

“I would still welcome an invitation; I’m told the Cattedrale metropolitana della Natività di Maria Santissima is a spectacular venue for a wedding.” His Sky smiles.

“It is. But I’ll let Kizuna choose where it takes place, Minister, but I’ll bear you in mind.” His Sky pushes up out of his chair, stumbling slightly, and the Minister rises as well. “But I really must be going, Minister; Kizuna’s never flown internationally, and I’d like to meet their flight and steal a kiss from my wife now we’re allowed to be in the same place unsupervised.”

“Of course.” The Minister’s lips curve in amusement. “Enjoy your honeymoon, Conte Cavallone; I look forward to meeting Contessa Kizuna in the near future.” He hurries his Sky out of the ministry, projecting enough of his Flames that Dino makes it all the way down the front steps of the building and into the limousine before his tendency to flail overcomes his desire to make a good impression. Of course he faceplants into the vehicle, but that’s easy enough to conceal, and he steps into the vehicle after him, allowing Bono to drive.

“Fon has imperial daughters in his Family tree if I remember correctly?”

“So Reborn insinuated.”

“Hopeful that means that Kizuna has been taught how to cope with politicians. I’ll do my best to shield them, but -”

“Yeah.” He pauses, swallowing the laughter attempting to bubble up in his throat. "You did do an excellent job of managing the Minister though. And set the scene nicely; the dashing young count who blushes when he mentions his new bride is just the sort of thing that makes excellent gossip for her circles.” His Sky goes bright scarlet again, and he does let the laughter escape this time.

“Where would I be without you, Romario?”

“Someone has to keep you on the straight and narrow, Dino. Your father elected me, and you’ve never told me to stop -" Sky Flames wrap around him soft and lush and grateful, and he goes quiet and limp, leaning against his Don in the back seat of the limousine. (It’s moments like this when he remembers why he took the final step and became Dino’s Sun Guardian, rather just being his major-domo.) Their brief reverie is interrupted by their BlackBerrys vibrating almost simultaneously and he sits up reluctantly and fishes for his.

The limousine pulls to a stop as he glances at his device; the message is an automated update confirming that Kizuna’s trousseau has been safely transferred from the International terminal and was being loaded onto their private plane. (He had no idea how Autumn Rain had managed to get it tagged as a diplomatic packet.) He shoves his BlackBerry back into his pocket and moves to slide out of the vehicle while his Don responds to his own message; he’s just opening the door as Dino finishes.

He raises an eyebrow at his Don, who smiles and shakes his head. “It’s just Alyessa being impatient.”

He shakes his head, amused. “Why am I not surprised? She has all the virtues and vices of her Flame, and most of the time, they’re the same thing.” Impulsivity, obsession, near-indestructibility; the list could go on and on.

“_Cruel_. But accurate.” His Sky fusses at his clothes, and he only refrains from laughing with a herculean act of will, though he’s sure Dino knows he’s highly amused.

At least Alyessa is waiting in the lounge with their new ward and her Mist; he’d have to arrange for one of the junior Sky suites to be opened, because he was fairly sure neither girls’ mother was going to be happy about them wanting to sleep wrapped around each other.

Their Lightning stops pacing when she sees Dino, reaching out with her Flames for the equivalent of a non-verbal hug, and then gains a wicked grin and asks a question. “How did the meeting with the Minister go, Dino?” His Sky pulls a face.

“Well enough. She agreed to the new school, and is willing to champion the clinic, especially since I want it to provide comprehensive women’s services and I’m willing to enforce that.“ He’s half surprised that Alyessa refrains from launching herself at their Don; the grin she bestows on him is dazzling and her Flames ecstatic. ”And we finally got the two denominazione di origine controllata certifications we applied for three years ago approved.”

“The wine from our vineyards and …?” Their Lightning looks confused.

“The horses; I forgot that you weren’t officially either my Lightning or my senior herdswoman when we put the application in; the horses - including the wild mountain herds we use for out-crosses - are now officially protected as the Siciliana indigene du Cavallone. We’ll have to send some of the more energetic Mists up to mark the mountain herds in the next few months.”

“As long as you remind them not to annoy our newest non-human Sky in the process; I’m not sure who would win between the Mists you’re thinking of and the sounder matriarch.” … he still owed Dino and Alyessa a punishment of some sort for that particular stunt of theirs. She’d been supposed to _corral_ their idiot Sky, not indulge him!

Dino taps something into his own BlackBerry, pausing for a response, and then snickers and responds, shaking his head, turning his attention to the two girls. “Did you have a good afternoon on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, Emiliana, Enhydra?”

“I got _lots_ of ideas. Do you have any seamstresses that take requests, Don Cavallone? Mamma thought that it was too plebian a skill for me to acquire.” He winces. His Sky had views on prejudices like that, and he’d have to supervise the next time Dino met the woman in question, lest he indulge in some of his more murderous instincts. (Which would be ironic, really, that the instincts Reborn woke to try and capture Squalo as Dino’s Rain, would react to the man’s sister-in-law so negatively.)

“Dino, please, Enhydra. And there are several who’ll happily accept an illusion as a dress pattern; I also know of one or two of them who would be more than happy to teach you if you want, too.” The little Mist throws herself at Dino who catches her and hugs her tight, ruffling her hair. “And you don’t have to listen to her unless you want to now, little one; your only job as one of my own is to be happy.” She nods, and slides back out of his Sky’s arms, and cuddles back up against her own Sky again, half in her lap.

“You have the _best_ Don, Emiliana. I made a good choice of Sky.” (He agrees.) “You know, you’ve been enjoying human anatomy but in a non-murderous sort of way; you might like practising medicine, Emi.”

“If you want to try the medical track you can, Emiliana; it’s normally for Suns, but it’s not unheard of for other Flame types to take it.” His Sky’s Flames curl carefully around his ward, reassuring, and he can feel the intent to protect her from pressure from _anyone_ , up to and including himself and either of the other two senior Skies in the Alliance. “Having one of the Family’s Skies running the clinic would be good for the Family in the long run, though.”

“I’ll give it a try. Everyone deserves good health care, and I want to do _something_ for the Family, Dino.”

“I’ll talk to the school before you return, Emiliana.” He opens the notes app on his BlackBerry and reads the reminder as his Sky commits it; he agrees with it. Shamal owes them more than one favour, and if Emiliana has indeed got a knack for anatomy, he would be the best person to teach him. “Reborn owes me a favour; Sky and Mist have more in common than Sun and Sky, so Shamal might have some useful tricks to teach you. And he knows better than to misbehave on our lands.”

Both his and his Sky’s BlackBerrys vibrate simultaneously, and he feels his Sky flail, his Flames slipping the leash and bouncing like an over-excited puppy until he reels himself back in again. He’s genuinely curious as to what the woman that Reborn’s sent to be Dino’s bride will be like; he’s always been torn as to who he’d chose as his Sky’s bride if he was asked to make a choice.

… She’s _exquisite_. The kimono she’s wearing is clearly _very_ expensive, in a shade of pale blue - the colour of soft Rain Flames - and pale orange that makes him wonder about her Flames; Dino had mentioned she was supposed to be sky-natured. “Konbanwa, Kizuna-hime.”

He’s impressed with Dino. He actually managed to get the greeting out comprehensibly. His Sky’s Japanese was normally excellent, but he was definitely flustered in a way that normally suggested he was about to go arse over tit.

“Good evening, Don Cavallone.” His eyebrow raises; Kizuna’s voice is lower than he would have expected, given her delicate appearance, and that was a low bow given how restrictive the obi she was wearing is.

“Welcome to Milan, Kizuna.” The two of them were going to be almost impossibly cute about making this work given their blushed. (He could have done without being aware of just how aroused his Sky was; he suspected Alyessa would agree with him.)

“And thank you, Hayato; you did an excellent job.” He sighs as Smoking Bomb bristles; the Cloud would be a good fit for his Sky, and his Sky was clearly aware of that, but the independent was clearly skittish. He’d have to ask Shamal for suggestions on how to manage and approach his protégé. He tunes out Dino’s introduction of the people present to his bride in favour of checking in with the pilot and confirming that they had their take-off slot and the cargo Tsuyoshi had warned him about onboard.

His Sky’s mental flailing drags his attention back to the room, ready to intervene to stop Dino mortally embarrassing himself in front of his new bride; he’d like babies in the nursery _eventually_ , after all. He sighs and facepalms as he realises his Sky has managed to misplace the chatelaine in the last two hours; he’s just about to step forward and remind Dino that he’d put the item in his inside pocket when his Sky finds it. He breathes a sigh of relief, and then watches with baited breath as Dino gives the small package to his bride - it’s not the traditional ring, but he thinks this is more meaningful; he remembers Dino’s mother wearing it and the way its Flames had fascinated him.

“It’s the Chatelaine of Villa Cavallone, Kizuna; you’re my Donna, and it’s designed to aid a non-Flame Active in managing the household. I thought, given what Reborn said, that it would help you feel more at home in Sicily. Nothing in my Villa is out of bounds to you when you’re wearing that, and all of my staff will accept your orders.” He holds his breath as she rubs her fingers over the amber intaglio and then sighs in relief as the shades within it respond favourably and she loops it over her obi in a way that looks very _right_ despite it being very Roman in design.

“May I kiss you, husband?” The question almost floors and definitely floors his Sky; he has wrap his Flames around his Sky briefly so that Dino doesn’t fall on his ass. “I need to reward you for being so thoughtful, after all, Anata.” He’s relieved that his Sky actually manages to nod; he’d hate to see what his new Donna would do if Dino accidentally rejected her. (The kiss is adorable. They were all going to die of either cavities or diabetes. Or _both_.)

He gives his favourite idiot a moment to enjoy himself, and then interjects with the information he’d got from the pilot. “As much fun as it would be to take twenty minutes to watch Dino flail after that kiss, we have a take-off slot to make, Donna Kizuna.” His Sky whines at him, but he ignores the sound; he’s just saving his Sky from himself. It’s an arranged marriage; he needs to take things slowly and carefully and build an actual relationship with his new wife. “Our primary pilot is in the cockpit and we’re refuelled, but we can’t take off if we’re not onboard.” Bono’s Flames flicker in question, gathering for a transport, but he shakes his head. “And no, we’re not ‘jumping’ back to Siracusa, Bono; I know you can do it, but it’s right in the limits of your range and you don’t need to court exhaustion.”

“Aw. But I need the practise -“

“Do you _really_ want to deal with Nuvola once she arrives home four hours after we do?” His voice is dry, and Bono sounds chagrin. “Hayato, you’re welcome to join us for the flight back to the estate, or I can book you on the evening commuter back to Palermo -“

“Che. Throw dinner in and I’ll join you.” Smoking Bomb hesitates, and checks his BlackBerry. “I assume Kizuna-hime’s cargo has already been transferred?”

“It has.” Gokudera-kun tucks his BlackBerry back into his pocket.

Dino offers his Donna his arm, and she take it, allowing herself to be led out of the discrete second set of doors, directly into the tarmac; there’s a mid-sized jet with a swing-down set of stairs. They’re not wide enough to climb two abreast, and he winces, trying to figure out how this is going to end in anything other than misery; Kizuna’s companion’s Flames wrap gently around her, and she climb the stairs, Dino behind her and he stalks up the stairs behind his Sky.

He catches Dino just before he faceplants; his Sky always fails the last step into the cabin and Dino flashes him a grateful smile and hurries inside after Kizuna. He shakes his head and turns into the cockpit to help the pilot with his pre-flight checks.

^ to Index

* * *

+ The Timoteo Scene

“You’re concerned about something, Visconti?”

“Cavallone’s sent Smoking Bomb off somewhere in a hurry; the boy left Palermo on a commercial flight yesterday.” His Cloud sounds stressed and annoyed, and he soothes him carefully with his Flames.

“We’ve not experienced any sabotage characteristic of Shamal’s little protégé, so that’s not the only thing concerning you about Cavallone’s actions.” His Cloud makes a grumbling sound and he bites off a bark of laughter at his oldest Guardian’s disgruntled state.

“I’m hearing _rumours_.” He makes a gesture, and his Cloud sighs. “He met our favourite swordsman this morning at the Academy this morning, successfully manipulated Principal Rossi, and proved that he has at least one transport capable Mist. He’s also been ingratiating himself with Siracusa’s City Hall and the National Government using the Cavallone’s title. I know the Superbi are making themselves an active nuisance, but I suspect Cavallone’s more dangerous in the long term.”

“Visconti. The boys were schoolmates, remember? There was even some controversy, if I recall correctly, over Xanxus poaching Squalo,” his Cloud murmurs something under his breath and he sighs as he fails to catch what’s said. “And Little Dino has his civilian indulgences, ne? He’s been trying to get his wines and horses protected for three years, so it’s probably just something to do with that; especially as Iemitsu isn’t concerned about his actions and he’s the one with the eyes on the police.”

“Che. I’d trust Iemitsu’s assessment of the situation as far as I can throw him, especially since he failed to alert you to any of the threats involving your boys.” He winces, and sighs, feeling both his age, and the cold ice where the bond to his fourth son should be. But Xanxus has been so angry; he couldn’t afford to crack the ice, not when it would likely end in mutual annihilation and Iemitsu’s untrained son having to take over. (The Rings _knew_ there was a more acceptable heir left; it had taken the man a week to recover from the near scrambling of his brain.)

“We’ve had this conversation, Visconti.”

“Then you’re being _Stupid_ again, Timo.” His Cloud sounds exhausted, and he wraps his Flames around him. “Iemitsu doesn’t have the brains that God gave a sheep. And you do realise he has no Guardians -”

“- by those standards I only have three, Visconti; nominees are enough for the Rings. You can’t penalise a Sky for having an odd set of bonding conditions.” His Cloud shakes his head and stomps out of the room and he fights the urge to follow him; he had too much work to do and was too old to indulge Visconti in what he wanted. He sighs and returns to his paperwork, not surprised when - a few minutes after his Cloud Guardian exit in high dudgeon - his senior Sun slips into his office.

“Are you okay, Boss? I saw Visconti stalk out of the building radiating killing intent.” He misses Brow Nie Snr; he wouldn’t have needed to ask. His Sun circles his desk and rubs his Flame coated fingers to his temples. He feels his mind clear, slowly, his perceptions sharpening as Brow Nie Jr clears the fatigue poisons out of his brain. It’s better than a strong coffee, though he needs the help earlier and earlier in the day. “I need to get you into the hospital for some tests, Boss. It’s taking more and more of my Flames to do that. I’m not convinced it’s _just_ fatigue.”

“I’m fine, Brow Nie. I can’t afford to show any weaknesses until Reborn’s gotten little Tsunayoshi well in hand and is in a position to fend off any attempts to remove him from the equation; it’s either that or defrost Xanxus, and last time he was loose, your father died.” It’s a carefully aimed shot, and he feels his Sun curl in on himself a little bit and regrets the barb. He wraps his Flames around him gently, ignoring the mild disharmony from his grief to the best of his ability.

“Very well Boss. Page me if you need my assistance again; I’m going to spend some time researching in the library.” He dismisses his Sun with a wave of his hand and returns to his paperwork.

And indeterminable time later, he’s interrupted yet again, this time by Iemitsu, whose Flames flood his office in a display of vitality and strength that’s almost irritating initially, but that annoyance quickly fades into amusement and pleasure; this man yielded to him in all things, including offering up his children for his plans. How could he be anything other than satisfied with him?

“Yes, Iemitsu?” The man was almost bouncing in place, and he needed some good news.

“My darling Nana-chan rang, and said that the tutor I sent Tsunayoshi has settled into the household well, and the increase in her grocery and pin money was appreciated.” Ah, that was good news; it meant that Reborn had arrived and was refraining from making himself too obvious a nuisance. “I can send Basil to check up on things in a few weeks; it’ll do him good to see that the grass isn't always greener.” He blinks at Iemitsu and shakes his head and the commander takes that as permission to leave ...

^ to Index


	7. Koibito - POV Tsuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. There’s been a fourteen day time skip. (Emiliana is returning to the Academy, but the time marker it’s easy to miss.)  
> 2\. The POV is marked as Tsuna, and many of their pronouns are masculine as they’re having a very male morning.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed still, Tsu-neko?” They scritch ko-tenjō’s ears gently and the kitten purrs fit to burst; they suspect she’ll stay small, but she’s at least fifty-percent larger than when they’d first arrived in Italy.

“Mmm. It’s six am, here, Keshi-nii.” The birds are even being obnoxiously loud; they’d woken them up before their alarm.

“You’re not a naturally early bird. Did your husband wake you up?” They blush at the insinuation.

“Not like _that_. He favours early morning rides, and I’ve been joining him, but Keshi, he’s perfect and he won’t do more than kiss me chastely. His Flames are amazing and he looks really, really good in a suit and -“

“Good.” They frown at the phone. 

“ _Keshi_.”

“He clearly wants this to work, silly cat. And from what Reborn said about him he’s sharing something he considers truly precious with you. It would be like me coaxing you into the dojo: he’s trying to build intimacy without sex.”

“But he’s _hot_ , Keshi. I want to climb him like a tree.” Their adopted brother chokes, and they whine. 

“Have you told _him_ that?”

“… I’m allowed to?”

“You said he liked it when you kissed him, silly cat. I bet he’s waiting to be sure you want sex. Especially since Reborn admitted he told him that you’re truly intersex; your husband has a type, one that you fit, and he’s proven he doesn’t mind which set of genitals his partner has. Also, why am I the one telling you this?”

“Because you want me to be happy and ji-san and oba-san have confiscated all three of your passports and won’t give them back until Kyo-nii says you’ve graduated.” Their nii-san whines. “If you were here in person, you’d have already locked Dino and I in a closet because even Chrome thinks we’re being ridiculously cute.” They take mercy on them, changing the subject. “How’s Sigure Kintoki treating you now you’re Active?”

“He’s cuddly. And otousama can’t shift him from my side. He’s interesting; he’s got his own Flames and very clear stylistic preferences.” Their big brother is so clearly besotted with his weapon it’s _adorable_. “I understand better why otousama wanted to teach me _before_ I was able to wield Kintoki-sama. I’m not sure I could have learnt so many styles if I’d done things the other way round.” They smile at their phone as their nii-san babbles happily.

“Love you nii-san.” Keshi squeaks, and they laugh. “Never change.” They disconnect the call and then force themself to crawl out of the pile of blankets on the bed - they were still debating as to whether they wanted one of the futons moved into the room in its place. Once out of bed, they dig in their underwear drawer, pausing at the binders; they select one suitable for riding, and then squirm into it, positioning their small breasts carefully to minimise their presence. 

The binder helps him select what else he’ll wear, and it’s amazing how much better the right clothes help him feel. He even looks like he has a decent package in the jeans he’s wearing. (Eiko-obasama had had far too much fun dressing them as their preferred version of Tsuna.) His hair takes a little more management, and is one of the risky components, but he doubts anyone’s going to tell the Vongola that their Donna has been wandering around looking like Giotto di Vongola. And he needed to _not_ have to tie his hair up.

Properly put together - and suitably wrapped up; early morning riding in March could be chilly - he gathers up his courage, loops his chatelaine around the belt (tucking it carefully into the altered pocket he’d had Chrome stitch into some of his pants) and then opens the door from his sitting room into Dino’s. His husband looks up from his seat on the sofa, and he flushes at the thoroughly appreciative inspection of his form. 

“They or he, koibito? Those jeans look _very_ good on you -“ he blushes harder.

“Um, he? And koibito, anata?”

“Well, you are. And very handsome this morning. Shall we go and see whether Ira and Nuvola are ready for us?”

His husband is _hard_. Which makes him throb, too, his little cock rubbing against the inside of his jeans and the sensation is intense. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek, willing their body to behave. Even if Dino liked him when he was presenting male, it didn’t necessarily mean he’d want him to do the penetrating.

“Alyessa’s going to ride with us; Romario deserves a lie in, and we’re going to see where the sounder has holed up. There were several pistols in your trousseau; I presume they’re your personal weapons. Can you collect one? We’ve got some rather impressive wildlife up in the foothills, and I’d prefer you were armed.” He nods, and slips back into his suite, heading straight for the weapons case that had been put in his closet and pulling out a comfortable holster and his preferred pistol. He loads it with ammunition, and slides it into place in the small of his back. 

Nuvola, Ira, Alyessa and her stallion are all waiting for them when they get downstairs, and he snorts, amused. “I feel like we owe Tomas an apology, anata.”

“He’s amused about how pointed they are about being saddled promptly … Kizuna?” He freezes, anxious about the Lightning’s response, but Dino pulls him into his side, clearly affectionate, and Alyessa looks at her Sky questioningly.

“Kizuna’s gender presentation is fluid, Alyessa. He’s having a masculine day.” Dino presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “We’re only going to be around those who are absolutely loyal to me this morning, koibito; do you want to be Tsuna while you’re feeling male, rather than Kizuna? Would it make things easier?” He nods shyly, and lifts his head, and his husband kisses him, more thoroughly than he has at any point in the past two weeks. “That name isn’t to go beyond the Guardians and my seniors, Alyessa; if it makes it to the Vongola, things will get messy.”

He sees the moment that his husband’s Lightning puts the pieces together. “You’re Iemitsu’s child, aren’t you? The one who Reborn is supposed to be training to inherit.”

He shudders at the mention of his sperm donor; between what Tsuyoshi and Kasumi had told him about the man, and the things he’d heard since he’d arrived in Italy he didn’t want to admit to a relationship between them. 

“He is. But that’s a Family secret, Alyessa. And it is a _genuine_ marriage.” 

“Given how besotted the pair of you are, I would hope so. If you’d been faking that, you‘d both be even better actors than I thought. Reborn really lucked out, didn’t he?”

“He had Nonna’s help.” He’d have to ask what Dino meant, later; as far as he was aware, his husband had no living first or second-degree relatives. His husband pulls him into another kiss, and then boosts him up into Nuvola’s saddle; he settles in place, shifting just enough to confirm that the cinch was tight.

Alyessa laughs, shaking her head. “I caught her holding her breath while she was being saddled, Tsuna, and tightened the cinch for you once she released it.” He leans forward, flicking his mare’s ear, and she shakes herself, sparks of Flame dripping from her mane.

“You want me to consider a foal at the same time as you, Nuvola-chan, you have to be good about your tack and taking my instructions, or I can’t ride while I’m pregnant; my anatomy isn’t very human standard, though my doctor is confident I’ll be able to carry to term without a Mist’s assistance if I’m sensible.” His mare hmphs, shaking her mane, but settles, wrapping her Flames around him. He eyes his husband; he seems to have broken him, and he’s mildly amused.

“Good to know. I’ve figured out how to use my Flames to substitute for a body protector, Tsuna, if you’re worried about getting kicked -“ Dino shakes his head, his cheeks visibly burning, and swings up onto Ira’s back.

“Which way were you thinking for our ride this morning, Alyessa?” He asks the question, giving his husband a little bit more time to recover.

“Up along the bridle paths to the far paddock the Flame Active herd uses when they need to corral the foals or human intervention for something, to see how they are this morning and then back through the woods to check up on the sounder; the police have contacted us about a missing poacher with a propensity for taking large game.”

Dino makes an amused sound. “You did tell them he’s likely been eaten by one or more boar?”

“They’d still like some bones to confirm his fate, an affidavit, and a picture of the sounder if possible so they can post a warning.” 

“A ‘sounder’?” He’s curious; the word isn’t one that he’s gotten from Hayato. Alyessa chuckles and vaults up onto the back of her stallion. 

“It’s the collective noun for a group of wild boar; ours are genuinely wild boar rather than feral hogs. They’re also the third set of Flame Active animals that reside on the estate.” He mouths an ‘ah’. “I’ll have to check in with the matriarch, but I’m assuming the poacher tried to hunt them if he’s been missing long enough to be reported; if he was just injured on the property the cats would have notified us by now.”

“You did tell her that they could eat anyone that wasn’t ours, Boss.”

“I didn’t expect them to action that order _quite_ so quickly. And I was sort of hoping they’d restrict their tastes to Flame Users, Alyessa. At least the Siracusa detachment is just going to think this is funny, if they really have.” 

He barks a laugh, slightly startling his husband, and earning himself a curious look. “Talk about instant karma. We have wild boar in Japan, and even Kyō-nii takes Tetsu-kun with him when he wants to hunt them.”

Alyessa grins at him and spurs her stallion; they take off after her. (Both of their horses are faster, so he’s not worried about losing her; the Lightning favours a rotation of the non-Flame Active stallions, some of which are from their racing stock, but this one isn’t.) She leads them on a merry gallop along the bridle-paths; given how much of the estate is still only accessible on horseback, deliberately, they’re kept cleared and in good condition. 

The first time Dino brought him up to this paddock, the entire Flame Active herd had been present, but this time there’s only two mares with young foals - very young foals; they might be all of a few hours old - and a stallion watching over them, Flames glittering in his mane. He snorts a challenge at them when they arrive at the gate, and they take the hint, leaving Nuvola and Ira and Alyessa’s stallion on the outside of the paddock.

“You two weren’t here last night, pretty ones. May I have a look at you?”

The stallion snorts another challenge, and Dino sighs. “Are you really going to engage in a battle of Will with me, Gio? You know why Alyessa wants to check on them.” He perches on the fence, letting his husband face down the overprotective stallion while Alyessa slips round him with her Lightning Flames coating her skin just in case.

“We’re good, Dino. Both the foals are healthy, the mares’ milk has come in properly, and neither of them shows any sign of having torn while giving birth.” One of the mares head-butts the Lightning and she strokes her nose gently. “I’ll bring the extra feed up for you later, sweetheart. And plenty of cookies, too.”

His husband rubs Gio’s nose and the stallion makes a grumbly sound but takes the affection and the reminder that his husband is the herd’s senior stallion. (The expression of dominance makes him blush, and his husband’s left eyebrow raises. Which only makes him blush _harder_ ; he’s hard again. He’s understanding his nii-sans’ cranky mid-adolescence better now; he’d never gotten spontaneously hard so frequently in a relatively small period of time and it was disconcerting!)

“Are you okay, koibito?”

“Very much so, anata. Um, just admiring your ability to handle Gio.” Dino beams at him, eyes drifting down his full length and back up again, and he whines, a tiny sound at the back of his throat.

“I could give you a demonstration of my stallion handling skills, koibito -“ he flushes even brighter, and Dino crosses the paddock, lifting him down from his perch on the fence, stealing another kiss before putting him down. (Had Dino really just insinuated he’d do something about his arousal, finally?) “- but we do have one more part to our morning duties, Tsuna.” He whines again, making Alyessa laugh, even as she springs up into her saddle.

Dino boosts him up onto Nuvola’s back; his mare snorts and projects a mental image at him that makes him squirm. “Sweetheart, that’s not how that works for humans. And do you _really_ want Gio? He’s stupid enough to think he can face down my anata in a battle of Will. Why don’t you go investigate the wild herds for a better choice?” She makes a small disgruntled sound. “I’m sure I can take a few days off riding sweetheart if that’s what it takes for you to do your research.” His Cloudy mare makes a sound that might be agreement and Ira nuzzles at her face, projecting agreement with him that Gio wasn’t appropriate for her.

“If one of us is going to escort Emiliana back to the Academy this morning, then we need to get moving, koibito. And I agree, Nuvola; you can do much better than Gio.”

“There’s a Sky stallion in the herd in the high hills, Nuvola. He’s somewhat Cloudy like our Don and not at all interested in coming down to this far; why don’t you see if he suits.” Alyessa sounds thoroughly amused. “I’m considering gelding Gio to see if it does anything for his common sense. Of course, Stella might beat us to if he keeps being so mare-brained.”

“Ouch. Do I need to worry about you gelding anyone else, Alyessa?”

“Maybe. But only if you choose to be _Stupid_.”

“But I want to use that!”

“If he’s being Stupid he doesn’t deserve you. And we can take a sample first.”

“Hiiieee -“

“Enough teasing, Alyessa. We haven’t gotten that far yet -“

“You’re being very slow then, Boss.” His husband whines, and he giggles. Alyessa spurs her stallion again, leaving him alone with husband briefly.

“I maybe would like that demonstration, anata.” He leaves his husband spluttering, Nuvola launching herself after their Lightning, speed augmented by her Flame. They over-take Alyessa, plunging along the woodland path, trusting Nuvola’s sure-footedness and the fact the mare wants to both keep being their mare, _and_ for him to join her in having a foal. 

Nuvola slows to a halt deep in the woods, and he swings down from her back carefully, drawing the sig-sauer from the small of his back and flicking the safety off; the calibre was deceptively small, but the rounds augmented, so while he’d rather not have to put one of the wild boar down, he _could_. He can hear Alyessa and Dino racing towards him, and Nuvola nuzzles his cheek. The undergrowth rustles, and he freezes, the mare beside him going equally still, purple fire surrounding her hooves.

A wild boar that’s more than waist-high to him emerges and he squeaks, hand shaking a little. But the boar has pale orange flames, and he sighs in relief; she has two bundles hanging from her muzzle, one wrapped in a piece of blood-stained clothing and the other a Cavallone-marked cloth. He suspects that one contains something from the missing poacher; the other makes him curious. He bows to her, respectful of an animal so clearly old and comfortable with her Flames.

The boar drops the two bundles and ambles back into the woods; just as she disappears back into the undergrowth, his husband makes his appearance, and raises an eyebrow at him. “The matriarch brought them to me.”

“You’re as likely to be the death of me as Dino, Tsuna.” Alyessa sounds resigned. “Do you reserve your acts of Stupid for when you’re letting your cock do your thinking, or can you be just as ridiculous as Kizuna?”

“In different ways. Tsuna is reckless; Kizuna is indulgent. Never take her shopping without setting a limit beforehand.” Dino dismounts, letting Ira’s reins drop, and presses a scorching kiss on him that makes him blush. “Hiiieee, Dino -“

“You said that Tsuna is reckless, koibito. I was indulging him. You. Both of us.”

“We’re still the same person, anata. It’s just a difference in which set of traits we’re _allowed_ to express. I couldn’t do this -“ he presses one of his hands to his husband’s groin, shamelessly investigating how well-endowed he is, “- as Kizuna, could I?”

“I’ve done it once or twice in a club, but I’m five foot nine and a Lightning, Tsuna. Kizuna’s just too delicate to pull that move off.” His husband’s Lightning sounds amused, and Dino pushes him back against Nuvola’s flank - his mare is _very_ well behaved to stay still and let Dino use her as a wall - and kisses him again, slow and deep and filthy until Alyessa laughs. “Break it up you two; if I wanted to see a live sex show, I’d go play bouncer in one of our brothels for the night.”

“Hiiieee. Alyessa! All our clothes are still on -“

“- oh sweetheart, you’re adorably innocent; if Dino doesn’t treat you right, Chrome and I will torment him.”

“Oi. You’re supposed to be _my_ Lightning, Alyessa.”

“And if you choose to ruin this, you’ll have been _Stupid_.” He’s missing something, but as both Ayessa and Dino sounds thoroughly entertained by each other, it’s an inside-ish joke of some sort. 

Dino lifts him back up into his saddle, hands wrapping around his waist in a way that makes him blush all over again. (He doesn’t need the help; Nuvola will happily kneel if he can’t swing himself up into the saddle. But Dino’s hands on him on feel far too good to refuse.) With him back in his saddle, his husband picks up the two bundles. He watches as Dino opens the bloody one and sighs. 

“At least I’m not going to get sore from riding while hard.” His husband sounds dubious and amused simultaneously.

“I take it it’s pieces of the poacher, Boss?”

“Enough to be identified. And clearly boar-crunched, too.” His husband pulls a face and ties the bundle up, and shoves it in one of Ira’s saddlebags. He peeps into the other one carefully, before tucking into Nuvola’s saddlebag. “And her latest tribute; one of her sounder has a very good nose for truffles. I didn’t even know we had ones in this size range on the estate.”

“We’re going to get _spoiled_. Did you know that one of them dragged an unfortunate and very recently dead male boar down to the kitchens, last night?”

“With a gun shot wound?”

“Nope. He’d been emasculated.” He and his husband shiver. “One of the Storms helped butcher the carcass. They’re pretty healthy, all said.” Alyessa’s eyes flick to her watch, and she swears. “Fuck. If you two want to run Emi and Hydra to school, you need to get your arses moving. Leave Nuvola and Ira in the yard and I’ll deal with their tack and getting the pieces to the Polizia.”

“Shit. And Bono’s out of the Villa today, too. Give Nuvola her head, Tsuna.” He grins at his husband and then leans forward and clicks his tongue, and his mare is quite happy to take the opportunity given to her.

Nuvola snorts in truimph as she beats Ira into the yard by a neck and he laughs and dismounts from the mare even as Dino dismounts from Ira; he finds himself pinned for yet another searing kiss. “Bossu, while I’m pleased you’ve gotten over those shy tendencies that were thwarting you from asking for what you clearly want, Emiliana is panicking in the breakfast room about being late to school, so let me give you two a short-cut back to Dino’s suite. Try not to get distracted.”

He’s about to retort to Chrome when she wraps her Flames around him and Dino, and drops them nearly in what’s clearly the mirror of his bedroom and he blushes _furiously_. 

“I think your Mist and my Lightning are dropping very unsubtle hints, koibito. But we both need to get changed.” His husband steals another kiss. “As much as I want you to keep those jeans on, we need Kizuna for a few hours.” He makes an unhappy sound at the back of his throat. “I can go without you, but it is an excellent opportunity to introduce you to more people in a way that will make you clearly a separate person from Idiotsu’s ‘Tuna-fishie’.” 

“I know. I just -“

“Can I bribe you, koibito?” His husband is hard again, his cock clearly visible through his jeans.

“Oh?”

“I want you to let me suck your cock.” He flushes bright pink, biting his lip, and nods. Dino kisses him again, dizzyingly hard. He’s left panting and hard and he almost wants to abandon everything and make his husband do what he’s just offered to do. “When we get home from Siracusa, koibito.” 

He steals his own kiss, then slips through the door between their bedrooms (the suites were mirrored) and tries to figure out what they can wear that will interpreted as Kizuna rather Tsuna while still being ambiguous enough that they don’t have to cross their whole gender presentation spectrum …


	8. Sparring - POV Squalo

“Voooiii. You enjoying being a Cavallone Mist, brat?” His niece grins at him, and he barely manages to catch her as she launches herself at him for a hug. “You’ve certainly taken to their demonstrativeness, brat.”

“How have you managed to avoid killing Mamma, Zio?” Her question makes him laugh despite his shitty mood.

“Yeah, your father’s always had shitty taste in how he likes to get his cock wet.” She hits him, making him laugh. “Voooiii. You need to keep up your training, brat; you hit like a fucking Cavallone already.”

“ _Zio_.”

“Do we need to have a sparring match, Squalo?”

“Voooiii. Only if you want to get stabbed, shitty Horse. Fucking Timo moved the shitty Boss on us.” He glares at Dino. “What did I tell you about using that shitty fucking trick on me?”

“Not to. Going to give me that fight? I’m sure Principal Rossi will let us use the sparring grounds. It’ll make you feel better Squalo -“

“Voooiii. You’re fucking on, shitty Horse.” The Horse’s wife - at least that’s who he assumes the little bit of fluff who curls their hand around Dino’s arm is - shakes their head, amused. There’s something odd there; he suspects everyone around them thinks they’re unambiguously female, but the fluff is seriously mixing their Japanese gender markers in a way that looks totally fucking deliberate. (His niece darts away, followed by her Sky, and he suspects they’re going to fetch the Principal to let them into the sparring grounds.)

“Anata, you’re as bad as my Kumo-nii. Though it would be fun to see how good the Sword Emperor _really_ is.”

“Voooiii. Who the fuck are you?”

“Donna Kizuna Cavallone, Commander.”

“Voooiii. Which fucking clan, brat.” The Horse’s hand clenches, flickers of orange flames bursting into life around it, and he raises an eyebrow as Dino demonstrates he’s thoroughly pussy whipped.

“Asari. My ji-san wields Kintoki-sama.” His mouth drops, and Dino laughs, delighted.

“Oh, koibito, you are such a treasure. I’ve not seen him look like he’s been hit by his namesake since we were at school here.” He narrows his eyes at the Don and the parents around them scatter as he radiates Killing Intent.

“Gentlemen, do not make me expel the girls.” He twitches. “Emiliana has made an excellent case for you using the exhibition space; if you can refrain from trying to tear each others' throats out for a whole ten minutes, you can even have an audience.”

“No throat-ripping, I promise.”

“Speak for yourself, Bucking Horse.”

“Commander. Please don’t make me summon my Kumo-nii; my husband’s promised me babies, and he hasn’t delivered yet.”

“Voooiii. Someone tie a fucking knot in, Bucking Horse? You’re normally hot to fucking trot at a moment’s notice.” Dino makes a face at him and he snorts. “Touched a fucking nerve did I?”

Flames wrap around them all, one of the school’s Mists showing off, and both he and the Horse have to fight themselves not to resist as they reappear in the school arena. “Seriously, Squalo. We’ll go to first blood; nothing permanently disabling. You’ve just been beaten to the prize; it’s not been hidden from you.”

“Shitty Horse - no, you’ve been too fucking busy trying to breed your pretty little broodmare for it be you. But you only cram your fucking fences for a really good fucking reason -“

“Exactly.” He knows he’s staring at the Horse. The spark of hope from his schoolmate’s words - that Xanxus isn’t hidden from him, but in safe hands - is unfamiliar and unsettling. It’s been almost a decade since he’s been able to touch his Sky physically. “Don’t give it away.”

Dino flips away from him, showing off - he’s guessing it’s actually aimed at his new wife, rather than at him, which is a fucking shame - and spinning his Flames out across the arena. He answers by flaring his own, and summoning his sword; the kids watching cheer, and the two of them are fucking well matched which is probably the reason the shitty Horse wanted to play; he’d made another fucking skill leap and wanted to test himself against someone fucking competent who wouldn’t kill him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting with your fucking wife, Bucking Horse?”

“Who says I’m not flirting with them? Their clan is combat oriented. I haven’t had a chance to show off for them.”

“Voooiii. You should have just asked, idiot Sky.”

“Isn’t this more fun?” The Horse’s whip wraps around the guard of his sword, yanking it, forcing him to dispel his blade and roll out of danger; while most people wouldn’t think of Cavallone’s whip as lethal, he’s seen him kill with it. “You’re half hard, and that says I’m doing something right.” There’s fucking Mist Flames blanketing the arena. Alien ones; he thought he knew all the fucking Horse’s Active duty Mists -

“I’m not willing to share, Commander. You’re more to my brother’s tastes than mine.” His head snaps round to meet those of the Horse’s wife; they have a female Mist standing next to them, eyes rimed with her Flame.

“Voooiii. If he’s Autumn Rain’s brat, I look forward to making him take it up the arse, princess. Perhaps he’ll enjoy it as much as your husband does.”

“Was that supposed to shock or disgust me?” He raises an eyebrow and slides under a snap of the Horse’s whip as the bit of fluff smiles softly. “If that’s what my husband needs or wants, I’ll just have to indulge him.

The Horse goes bright red, and hard as a rock; he kicks him towards his wife, but the man pulls off another acrobatic manoeuvre, twisting under his blade and snapping his whip. The popper catches the back of his knee, Sky Flames half crippling the joint - the Horse is fucking soft; he can feel that it’s only temporary, though he’ll need either the Horse’s or Lussuria’s help to walk normally before tomorrow - and he’d normally fight through it, but he has a hint to investigate and goddamn it, he owes his former classmate.

The illusion of blood - he glares at the strange Mist, daring her to break it - is easy enough to create. It’s one of his favourite fucking tricks for luring people into a false sense of fucking security. “Voooiii. Your win, shitty Horse. Go kiss your fucking bride; she doesn’t want to share, so neither of us can have our normal fucking forfeit.”

(Shitty Horse is fucking lucky; his bit of fluff is adorable and too fucking good for him. He’d been testing him when he’d made the joke about having fucked her husband and wanting to fuck her brother, and she’d rolled with it and made a quip back.)

Bucking Horse kisses his wife slow and easy and sweet and the Mist drops the illusion, letting the sound of the kids fade back into existence. “I've been muffling your banter, Commander-sama.” Her lips curve into a grin. “I think my oni-sama is going to feel very much at home in Sicily if there are toys like you to play with.”

 _Oni-sama?_ It was clearly a pun, and a nickname, but not a name in the Varia sense. He raises a quizzical eye at her.

“This one is called Hibari no Chrome, Commander-sama.” Fuck. _Fuck_. There was only one person her oni-sama could be; Autumn Rain may have hidden from him successfully, but Hibari Kasumi and her equally overpowered eldest son were notorious in the Underworld - and that was even with most of the peons being unaware they were kin to an Arcobaleno. “My oni-sama asked me to play handmaiden to his koneko-tan.”

“Voooiii. Does the Horse realise just how dangerous his pretty piece of fluff’s siblings are?” The Mist smiles, wryly.

“Oh he knows, Commander. He likes it; I blame the Arcobaleno no Taiyō for his … perversions.” He snorts. That sounded about right; Reborn had had the Horse in hand from twelve to twenty-two and that was a very formative age range. “But then oni-sama may have rubbed off in me in that sense.”

“Voooiii. The Hibari making a move, princess?”

“Ara. Chrome-chan is merely an adopted daughter of the clan.”

“Uh-huh. You’ve got a fucking strong Flame and I know how people look on adoption in Japan. You’re as much a fucking princess as Dino’s bit of gender-ambiguous fluff, kiddo.” The Mist’s Flames rise and he flicks his across them in a way that he’s had to learn to manage the little shits Mammon refuses to coral without payment. “Now what the fucking are the Hibari up to, princess?”

“Keeping the Asari-hime safe from harm. They have an Activation Disorder; it leaves them vulnerable.” He glares at her and she smiles sweet and poisonous, and in a different set of circumstances, he’d make a recruitment pitch. “Circumstances may bring Kizuna-sama and I’s nii-sans to Sicily in due course. Kyōya will need to be sure his koneko-chan is happy and Takeshi can only learn so much from his father -"

“Voooiii. Autumn Rain _spawned_.”

“With Blossom Swallow, Commander-sama.” He shudders.

“Which of their weapons is he wielding?”

“Kintoki-sama.” She giggles as he blanches slightly. “Don’t worry Commander. I’m still covering our conversation with my Flames. Everyone’s paying attention to Dino-sama being soppy with his new Donna; children are such useful gossips.”

“Shameless fucking Mist.” She curtsies _perfectly_ , making him laugh.

“I’m sure Takeshi-nii will want to test himself against you; he wants a Name to prove he can protect his imouto.” He snorts. Of course, the brat would want that. “Kill him and I’ll _demonstrate_ the lessons I learned from Kasumi-sama.” Her smile is poison sweet again, and he skims through his mental encyclopedia, trying to figure out why he’s actually concerned about what the Mist in front of him might do. "Dokuzakura, Commander-sama."

Ah. Yes. That would explain why. He doubted the Horse realised just how lethal a guard his new allies had sent to watch over their princess. “Mammon-sama says I am quite proficient, if rather less mercenary than they think I should be.”

“Princess, you couldn’t be mercenary enough for Mammon if you laid flat on your back and charged your weight in gold per thrust.” The Mist laughs. “Want to come say hello to the little miser, or do you need to keep Dino’s bit of fluff out of trouble?”

“Let me herd them back into the car, Commander-sama, and then I’ll come back to the Varia with you. I want to see if haha-ue’s won her little wager with Reborn-sama.” He raises an eyebrow, but the Mist merely smiles and vanishes, reappearing with Romario, next to Dino and his Donna - both of whom were still woefully fucking distracted by the need to kiss the fuck out of each other; he doesn’t pity whoever’s going to have to clean their fucking limo - and he slides his sword back into its belt hanger.

Romario herds the two lovebirds out towards the limo, (How the fuck was little bit of fluff walking normally? He never could in the past when the Horse won one of their matches; it was the other reason for his nickname) and Dokuzakura smiles and walks back over to him. “Voooiii. What’s her fucking secret? The Horse is armed like his fucking namesake -”

“Ara. That would be telling, Commander-sama. Kizuna-sama’s secrets are mine to keep.” She’s still smiling, soft and sweet and dangerous, and he shakes his head. “My range covers the length of Japan; I can jump us to your castle if you wish -”

“Voooiii. I’f you can get past Mammon’s barriers, I’d love to fucking see it.”

“As you wish.”


	9. Oral - POV Dino

Romario opens the door of the limousine and he hands Tsuna out to his Sun, following him out, and stealing another kiss; his pretty little wife swats at him, and he grins at them.

“Let me show you one of the uses of your chatelaine that I suspect you haven’t discovered, yet.” His wife gives him a confused look, and he pours Flames into one of the attached charms, spinning the working to life. The Flames fade away again when they’re stood in his sitting room. “What can I do to make you more comfortable, koibito? You did incredibly well, but I can see you’re not happy with how you’re currently presenting -”

They bite their lip, blushing. “Help me undress, anata? I did the best I could to be Kizuna while we were out, but -” He almost cheers; he’d been half afraid when he realised how stressful his wife had been finding presenting as female while they were out that they might decide they weren’t going to let him try giving them a blow job.

“I can do that.” They tug at his belt loop, towing them into their space - he flushes; he’d expected this to take place in his bedroom - and his eyes widen at the way they’ve made the space their own; it’s a beautiful mix of japanese and italian. The bed is gone, replaced by a platform and futon type mattress; there are several screens - one of which matches the fabric of the furisode they’d greeted him in - and a daybed positioned near the big windows onto the balconey. (Thank the gods for kevlar curtains, or he’d be eternally anxious about his wife’s safety.)

“Chrome-chan helped me do it. Your offer this morning gave me the impetus.” He blushes, his cock pressing against his zip so hard he’s half worried something will tear or bruise. “I wanted the space to feel more -” they wave their hands, “- I hope it’s okay -”

“- it’s beautiful, like you, koibito.” His wife blushes. “May I -?”

They nod, and he steps closer to them, telegraphing him movements carefully. His hands drop to the tie that’s keeping their haori - it’s a pretty piece in dark blue, with an intricate lining decorated in a swallow-and-horse motif that makes him whine at the back of his throat. It’s very much a statement of alliance, of trust and their families being equal.

“Where should I put it?” His wife giggles, and takes the jacket from him. She drops it and it vanishes in a flash of Mist Flames.

“Kasumi-oba-sama’s favourite alteration for bedroom floors. It sorts it by tags in the clothes.”

“So if I drop mine -”

“They’ll stay put. At least until they’re tagged.” They grin at him. “But that’s easy enough to do, and I have a couple of spare sets.” He steps back into their personal space and his wife tilts their head, and he can’t resist kissing them again. It had felt so good to kiss them after his sparring match with Squalo and he’d wanted more. Much more. And his wife had said they wanted him to follow through with his earlier offer.

(He was genuinely curious as to what form their genitalia took; Reborn couldn’t have arranged their marriage if they couldn’t have children, but that didn’t say much. Not that it mattered, really, but curiosity killed the cat.)

He telegraphs his movements, tugging on the ties of the hakama until the knot unravels, checking that his wife’s still comfortable with his actions, and they answer him by reaching around themself to undo the other set of ties, letting the hakama fall to the floor and vanish. It leaves them dressed in a nagajuban, wrapped in a pale orange obi and he whines at the back of his throat.

“You’re beautiful, koibito.” They blush, and loosen the obi; he coaxes it from around their waist - it was much longer than he’d expected, and had been wrapped in a fashion he didn’t recognise, one that had helped leave them with a flat-er silhouette. “And clever. And far too good for me.” They blush furiously, and he presses a kiss to the corner of their mouth. “You are.” Their hands unfasten the datejime, letting their nagajuban slip open. He pulls Kizuna close, kissing them again, enjoying the way they don’t shy from tangling tongues with him. He has their skin, soft and delicate, under his hands. He’s hard as a _rock_.

“You’re teasing me, anata.” He presses a kiss to the tip of their nose. “You promised me something.”

“That I did. But I was going to ask you how much more you wanted to undress, koibito.” They squeak. “You can keep your nagajuban on, -” he has to concentrate to get the word right; he’d learned the names of the components of traditional Japanese clothes the hard way, thanks to Reborn, but it was vocabulary he hadn’t used for a while, “- if you want. I’d like to see all of you, but when and how I do is up to you.”

They bite their lip, and squirm out of his arms, making him whine softly but then he’s rewarded for not grabbing them by his wife dropping their nagajuban entirely; it vanishes in a soft flash of Mist Flames and he’s left with them naked in front of him other than a pair of boy-shorts. They have gorgeous breasts; tiny little palmfuls, topped with the cutest raspberry red nipples that he wants to lick and nip at to see if doing so will make his pretty wife squirm.

Before they can cover themself back up with his hands, he pulls them back close to his body, and kisses them slow and deep, pouring his need for them into it, and Kizuna gasps and presses against him, and he can feel them through the fine fabric of his slacks; can feel that they have an erection, and he wants to whimper at the possibilities. He doesn’t though; he nudges them back towards the daybed, and then releases them from the kiss.

“Sit down, koibito, and let me do what I promised I would. I’ve been daydreaming about this.” They squeak, but do, and he drops to his knees in front of them. “You can tug on my hair to your heart’s content, koibito. And I need you to tell me what you like and don’t like, okay?” They nod, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his wife’s boy-shorts and tugs them off their hips, and down off their legs.

His wife has a cute - but perfectly formed - little cock, maybe three inches from base to tip and it’s as hard as his own is. He kisses its tip, and his wife squeaks, hands dropping into his hair.

“It’s okay that I have a cock?”

“Oh yes, koibito. I like men and women and everything inbetween -” he kisses their cock again, dipping the tip of his tongue into its little slit. “I like using my mouth on my partners and I’d quite happily give you whichever flavour of oral sex that’ll let you get off. I can suckle on your pretty little cock, or stick my tongue inside you and eat you out.”

He’s rewarded with a shiver that feels like it’s a good one. It might be his breath tickling at sensitive flesh, and he closes his lips around the tip of his wife’s pretty cock and sucks gently; the hands in his hair tighten convulsively and he hums in pleasure, making Kizuna’s hips twitch. He tongues it, enjoying the way that its small size means he doesn’t have to worry about gagging, and generally does his very best to stimulate them. (They might have to work to find the right angle, but he thinks they’re more than long enough to hit his prostate if they want to top him. He hopes they do.)

“There. Please?” He repeats the action, and Kizuna tugs on his hair and he rides the motion, closing his teeth ever so gently around the base of their little cock and massaging it with his tongue. They cum; he can feel in their thigh muscles, in the tiniest flicker of Sky Flames, and the thin cum they produce. (It’s not as bitter as experience tells him male seed normally is; he’ll thoroughly enjoy laying between his wife’s legs and pleasing them.)

His wife’s cock softens on his tongue slightly, but not as much as he’d expected, and he flicks his tongue against its underside carefully, trying to gauge whether he should try and coax a second orgasm from them. He lifts his head, letting it pop free of his mouth and looks up at his wife, who looks half shell-shocked. “Koibito?”

“Do that again, please?” He grins.

“Gladly. Can I let my fingers wander a little bit?” They nod, still looking more than a little bit dazed, and he lifts both of their legs onto his shoulders, and returns his mouth to their cock, sucking on it eagerly; it’s fully hard again and he’s more than a little curious about his pretty wife’s anatomy. With them thoroughly distracted by his mouth, he brushes his thumb gently from the base of their cock down towards their tailbone and finds them wet, their slit so apparently narrow and tight it makes him want to wince.

He presses in slightly, sucking on their cockhead gently; their body gives, the tip of his thumb sinking inside. They gasp, hands tight in his hair, clearly conflicted; he can feel them trying to figure out whether to embrace the new sensation or try to escape it. (They’re hot and silky and fuck, when they’re ready for his cock they’re going to feel amazing wrapped around him; snug and wet and gorgeous, their little cock bouncing while they ride him.) He lets them make the decision, and he’s rewarded by them pressing down, onto his thumb; he rewards them in turn with a luxurious suck of their cock that had them wriggling, thoroughly captured, and he flicks his tongue against the point that had pulled their first orgasm from them.

It works again, and he almost swears as their body tries to strangle his thumb; there’s also a slightly stronger wisp of Sky Flames, and they carry his wife’s pleasure. (That pleasure, so rich and deep, and so unashamedly _happy_ that he accepts them without reservation is too much; he cums in his pants. It’s the first time in years that he’s done _that_.)

“Oh _fuck_. What was that?” He kisses his wife’s inner thigh, amused by the vulgarity he’s reduced them to.

“This -” he thrusts his thumb into their body gently, “- or what happened after you came, koibito?”

“The second. I know what fingers there feel like.” They sound indignant. “Eiko-obasama insisted I learn how my body worked when I decided I didn’t want the doctors to try and make me one or the other.” He chuckles and presses another kiss to the tip of their cock.

“Ah. That was _my_ orgasm, koibito.” They look at him wide-eyed, and he grins. “Sky Flames, more than all the others, tend to carry their wielder’s emotions. I learned to project to non-Actives, too; finding I could use it during sex as an additional way to communicate was a _very_ happy bonus.”

“You came from sucking me?”

“I came from your _pleasure_ , koibito. You were projecting it.” His wife squirms on his thumb, their flesh quivering around it, muscles squeezing tight. “Reborn said you had an Activation disorder?” He extracts his thumb carefully, and licks it clean, savouring his wife’s juices.

“I do.” His wife is nervous, and he slides their legs off his shoulders, and stands up carefully. “Or rather I have something that passes for one.” He stills. “It’s not infectious -”

“Koibito, who Sealed you?”

“Can’t you guess?” His wife sounds almost bitter, and it makes him want to Rage; they’re _his_ and they’ve been hurt in an unjustifiable way. He wants to tear Timoteo di Vongola and his consigliere into tiny pieces. But his wife makes a small distressed sound that pulls him back from the edge; his duty right now is to offer them comfort, not to tilt at windmills. Better to wait to see what torture Reborn planned to inflict on the two men.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He sits beside on them the day bed, and dries his slacks with a burst of his Flame - Romario will try to kill him later, but needs must - and pulls them into his lap, swinging himself around and leaning back against the head of the bed. There’s a blanket, and he tugs it over both of them, holding Kizuna close. They curl into him, and he does his best to project soothing calm at them, and gradually they fall asleep on his chest. The trust that represents humbles him, and he falls into a half doze, intent on not disturbing their nap.


	10. Waking Up (Oh fuck) - POV Xanxus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sefiru should get plenty of credit for the idea of Mammon being salaried; I realised after I wrote the line where it came from, but it fitted far too well :D

Cold.

He’s fucking _cold_. 

It’s a familiar cold, too. His bastard father had used it on him during training drills, had taught him what it felt like and how to counter it, and he’d hated it then, and he hates it now. 

(He’d pretended successfully that he was grateful that he’d been taught the technique, that it was the honour his father had proclaimed it to be, but it had really been a threat; look what I can do to you. Look how I can cut you off from your Guardians and corral and contain you.)

He reaches out with his Flames achingly carefully, not wanting to alert the old bastard that he’s awake, or even that he’s out of the ice.

“I know you’re awake, Xanxus di Varia.” The voice is familiar. Not the old man. Not one of his Guardians. He wracks his brain for the possibilities. “Luckily for you, this isn’t a trap. I have a non-lethal contract and you’ll fit its criteria nicely with a little polish and some medical assistance.”

“I don’t believe you, trash.” There’s a snort of laughter and he hears the rustle of money; both are very familiar. “Mammon, report.”

“Mou. That’ll be five hundred euros.”

“You’re on a fucking salary, trash. Give me the fucking report.”

“Your father contracted Reborn. The senile old fool failed to proofread his contract; Reborn decided to honour the letter of it rather than the spirit the old fool wished to have it fulfilled in.” He snorts and opens his eyes, wincing at the sunshine.

“How long have I been out, trash?”

“A decade.” _Shit_. “The Commander has held the Varia, and pulled favours from the Cavallone and the Superbi to keep us afloat. Your Guardians are all still breathing; you can’t feel them because I am hiding your presence from the old fool and the technique needs refining further.”

“Fix that, trash. If it aches this bad for me, I don’t want them fucking suicidal a moment longer than absolutely necessary.” Mammon glares at them, and he snorts. “Trash, you do the fucking impossible on a regular basis. Refining this with the Horse’s shitty tutor to help should be easy. And where the fuck are we? This place feels fucking familiar.”

“One of Daniela’s mountain villas; it’s on the edge between Vongola and Cavallone lands.” His hand snaps up to meet the incoming bullet, his Flames curling into the form necessary to catch and the speaker hums in delight. “That saves time; I was worried we hadn’t managed to reignite your Flames. We weren’t always successful at bringing people back from the ice with them still intact when we used it during the war.”

Reborn hops onto the bed, yellow pacifier at his throat; he reaches out and touches it feeling the familiar cursed void suck at his finger tip for just long enough to know that it really is the Sun Arcobaleno in front of him.

“Mou. You owe me a hundred thousand euros; you didn’t tell me _that_.” His Mist floats across from their chair, shedding their cloak and settling themselves beside him, the skin to skin contact allowing him to feel their relief at his presence.

“And would you have allowed me to go ahead if I had? I’m on a deadline, Viper. The risk was lower than the risk involved in unsealing the other candidate.” He gives in and cuddles his Mist; if they’re willing to shed their cloak in Reborn’s presence he’ll take advantage in a way that he normally has to pay for. “And I’m not the Horse’s tutor now; I’m _yours_. You’re my choice for Vongola Decimo, brat, and I’ll make you a Don in the vein of your great-grandmothers.”

“Great-grandmothers -?”

“That’s the part you focus on? You’re a Wrath, brat. I could show you the Maths; even without a blood test, the likelihood you _aren’t_ descended from one of Daniela and Tiberia’s daughters is less than one percent. If I’m wrong, then Shamal can fix the problem. I have hair samples with roots from both of them in my possession.” 

“But the diaries -”

“I didn’t say you were Timo’s son. Just that you’re Daniela and Tiberia’s great-grandchild.” He blinks, confused; given he’s just been defrosted, he thinks that’s probably a reasonable response. “If that’s the only reason for your tantrum though, I’m going to beat the Stupid out of you.”

“Mou. You think I would have followed him into that battle if it was, Reborn?”

“If he paid you enough.” He can feel Mammon’s Flames curl and flare, and he wraps his Flames around them carefully, making the Mist slump and whine.

“Idiotsu.” Reborn raises an eyebrow at him. “Track back every fatality from when we raided the Fort. The ones that died were compromised. Either by the Carabinieri or one of the other Families. Including Ganache II; my idiot old man had taken a political appointment as his Lightning.” 

“Mou. He has three political Guardians, now.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He slams his head back into the pillow, and covers his eyes with the arm that isn’t wrapped around his tiny Mist. “At least I cleared most of the rats out. How bad a state is the Family in?”

“The Estraneo have resurfaced.”

“I thought I’d killed those fuckers. Did they snag the brats we hid back, or -?”

“Mou. The brats are fine. Just as murderous as when we first stole them, too.”

“Belphegor must adore them, then. How is our little Storm-brat?”

“Hunting his brother; someone successfully brought him back to life after his murder spree. Mukuro is keeping him company.” He makes an amused sound; the idea of the murderous little Mist he’d rescued playing the responsible one was somewhere between hysterical and terrifying. 

Reborn’s clue-by-four finally makes brutal contact with his skull, and he turns he glares at the Sun Arcobaleno. “Who the fuck was the other candidate, and which fucker Sealed them?”

“I was wondering when you’d catch that.”

“Trash -” the mallet that smacks into his head catches him unaware. “Shitty fucking tutor, what the fuck was that for?”

“It seemed appropriate. If you want it to stop, then show me you can pick your linguistic register appropriately.”

“If I stop fucking swearing, everyone’ll think I’m a fucking fake.” Reborn smacks him again, the mallet sending pain arcing through him but doing no damage, sneaky fucker. “Or that I’m going to kill them. It’s like my shitty shark going quiet; a useful verbal tic.” 

“One that we need to make more subtle; you’ll never perform ‘civilian business leader’ as well as pipsqueak-Dino can if you don’t. And the other candidate was Iemitsu’s single legitimate child.” 

“Shit, someone let the Idiot breed? More than once?”

“Mou. Investigations suggest that none of the conceptions were entirely consensual.” He winces at Mammon’s dry words; his Mist had a tendency to understate things. “He has custody of one bastard and the mother of the other has a restraining order against him; the contract to help enforce it is lucrative.”

“Discount it and arrange training for the brat. Kid needs to know how to fight Sky brainwashing.” Neither of the old men were beyond fucking with people’s heads, and Iemitsu was even worse than his fucking ‘father’.

“Their Family has already arranged it.” He allows a stream of invective to slide off his tongue. “They are competent and surprisingly sociable Cloud; Skull is training them.”

“Shit. At least no one’ll try and use them as breeding stock. What about the one the Idiot has custody of?”

“Lal took him under her wing; he’s fine.”

“Small fucking mercies.”

“This is going to go faster than training pipsqueak-Dino; you’ve got the basics down.” Reborn’s lips curve. “And unlike him, you aren’t so Cloudy that being broken to harness will make you kick just for the sake of it.”

“The Horse-trash is a _Cloudy_ -Sky?!”

“Try taking a shot at one of his horses and you’ll never doubt it again.”

“That sounds like a fucking _story_.”

“And not one I’m telling.”

“Mou. Try asking the Commander, Boss.”

“Speaking of my shitty shark -?” 

“Mou. He’s investigating what the Cavallone are up to; your former student has been taking some interesting actions in the last few weeks.” Reborn hums mischievously, and Mammon sticks their head up from where they’re snuggled against his side; he whines. “Mou. You know something, Reborn.”

“He’s protecting someone for me. And hopefully discharging the last part of the contract his father and grandmother bound me to. Fortunately, Timo didn’t use the same one; I have no idea where I’d find you such an eminently suitable bride.”

“…”

“Though given where I found Dino his, bribing his wife’s Cloudy half-sister into considering you would probably work. As it is, I already have a Cloud candidate that should be amusing to watch you try to handle, or I’d look her up anyway.” He shudders; he had no more fucking interest in women than his shark did. He’d rather make a formal fucking surrogacy contract to deal with the issue. 

“I thought Idiotsu had a son. Called him something Stupid like ‘Tuna-fishie’ -“

“We all know he’s an Idiot.”

“Not a son, then.” Reborn gives him a look that says well ‘duh’. “At least the fucking Cavallone already have Vongola blood. I thought the Horse was as uninterested in women as I am though.”

“You were frozen at fourteen, brat. I figured out what he was looking for in his late teens and luckily Kizuna fits both variations to tee.” Reborn shakes his head, his pistol shifting back to being a chameleon. “You will need to spawn though.”

“Find a fucking surrogate for me. I’ve tried pussy and it sucks compared to cock.” Reborn makes an amused sound.

“Crude.” 

“I prefer accurate.”

“What do you need to rebuild your pistols? The ice crushed them.”

“Of course it fucking did.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “I’ll need a full forge. I have to build the Flames in from the fucking start or they melt when I use them.” 

“It’s just as well I picked this Villa then.”

“I need my shark, too.”

“Trickier; he’s in the public eye.”

“He’s my senior fucking Guardian and strategist.”

“Mou. If we’re on the edge of Cavallone land -”

Reborn hums mischievously. “That _might_ work, Mammon. Keep your idiot from doing anything Stupid while I set something up. He should meet his senpai, after all.” 


	11. Intelligence Work - POV Lal & POV Basil

‘Iemitsu, what the ever-loving fuck were you thinking _this_ time?’ She wants to shout the words at her idiot Sky - not her _actual_ Sky, but everyone _assumes_ \- but she refrains and shoots the target on her wall instead, making Basil flinch and look at her with a put-upon expression.

“Nonna -”

“Iemitsu’s pulled the detail I put on Cavallone.” She holds up the report. “Take a look at this, and tell me what our idiot commander missed.”

Her apprentice flicks through the document, and then turns back to the start of the report and scans through it, clearly looking for something specific. “How did Cavallone build enough of a relationship with the either the Mayor of Siracusa, or the Minister of Regional Affairs to meet them in person without us noticing?”

“Exactly. We know roughly what he discussed with both of them from our operatives in their offices, but that’s only what’s on the official record, not the detail.”

“Hasn’t his youngest Sky just claimed a Superbi, too?” She flicks through the piles on her desk, looking for the Academy update - getting someone into their admin office has been a personal triumph; the reports came directly to her, but Basil saw them too as her apprentice - and flicks through to Emiliana di Cavallone’s records. “The one that Iemitsu thinks might make a suitable Donna for Tsunayoshi.”

“She’s been moved to the Medical track; Cavallone’s obviously got a plan for her. I doubt he’ll offer her up for a contracted marriage without demanding far more than Iemitsu would want to give.”

Basil shakes his head. “I assume he’s banking on their shared torment by Reborn to reduce the cost.”

She pinches the bridge of his nose. “Remind me why I shouldn’t string him up by his balls?”

“Because Bouche Croquant is a competent Mist and the Curse would kill you within weeks without a regular infusion of Sky Flames.” She nearly shoots her apprentice; his answer is delivered in a singsong tone that says he’s being a little shit deliberately. “Squalo’s up to something, and Reborn’s ordered the Villa he inherited from the Eighth opened -“

She takes the change of subject gratefully. “Any indication that he’s planning a repeat of the Cradle Affair?”

“Given that Belphegor has been given family leave - which is a different sort of worrying given that he’s taken the Estraneo heir with him - and Levi and Ottabio report no uptick in recruiting or training in more traditional Varia techniques -“ an oblique reference to the infiltration and sabotage they _also_ specialised in, “- it’s more likely that the Superbi are starting to position themselves to take advantage of Nono’s decline and Cavallone’s disinterest in participating in the more lucrative parts of the Underworld.”

“And the Villa?”

“Cavallone’s busy with his new bride; presumably, Reborn wants to introduce him to his new student and teach Tsunayoshi Italian by immersion, and knows he’s not going to get Cavallone out of his Villa for more than a half-day at a time.” Plausible; Iemitsu’s boy would need to get competent with Sicilian fast, and it wasn’t a language that lent itself to classroom learning.

“Do we have anything on the new wife?” Cavallone was a known quantity; he’d be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on for Iemitsu’s son. The new wife on the other hand -

“Reports say she isn’t Flame Active, but has a very powerful female Mist acting as her maid. Cavallone’s clearly besotted with her, and none of his Guardians seem at all concerned with that, so it’s probably a convenient love match with the daughter of one of his Japanese allies.”

“Do we have a name for either woman?” Basil’s answer takes the form of a paper aeroplane; she catches it and unfolds it, and swears in three separate languages. While she didn’t recognise the woman in the centre of the picture, she did recognise the Mist. “What the hell is Dokuzakura doing playing maidservant?”

“I actually thought it was the Estraneo heir in drag when I originally saw the picture.” She raises an eyebrow, there was a certain similarity -

“I’m assuming she’s mission-born, but we’ll have to investigate; having an iteration of Daemon’s line that isn’t batshit crazy would be useful.” Basil snorts. “Iemitsu will be displeased that she’s attached to Cavallone’s wife; he’s been bemoaning the fact that his tuna-fishie is going to have to have a Varia Mist.”

“Did we ever figure out why he thinks his son will need the Estraneo heir?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“No, Nonna.” She slides a file out of her drawer, the duplicate of the one that Iemitsu had taken to Nono twelve weeks ago. She flicks it open, and flips it around so her apprentice can see the picture that their Boss had decided to use as bait for the Ninth. “Did he _stage_ that? Fuck, he has to have staged it.”

“Whether he did or not doesn’t matter. If we can see it, he will have. He’s spent enough time subtly making the claim he’s of Primo’s blood; being able to introduce his son as a neo-Primo is clearly a potential power play.”

“Explains why he keeps wanting reports on the Bovino, though.” Her apprentice picks up a pile of photos, flicking through them. “I don’t have a name for Cavallone’s bride, but this might tell you something? If she rates a Named Assassin as her maid, then the furisode she wore in Milan might be important.”

She raises an eyebrow, and her apprentice hands her the photo; it shows Dokuzakura and Smoking Bomb escorting Cavallone’s wife through Milan’s international terminal - they’re lucky to have gotten it; she’d have to give the agent responsible a bonus - and she sucks in a breath as she sees the Kamon on the furisode.

“She’s an Asari. We should have a file on them.”

“As the Israelis say, should is the name of a fish.”

She eyes her apprentice dubiously. “How do we not have a file on them? Ugetsu was Giotto’s senior Guardian and the one who taught him how to actually use his Flames. The journals are quite clear that the Asari were a major clan with a rich Flame history older than the papacy -”

“Unless they’re in the records under a different name, that’s not one of the yakuza clans I’m familiar with -”

“- they’re not yakuza. Ugetsu was travelling internationally during Japan’s closed period. He had to be highborn. _Very_ highborn. And that kimono is expensive, Basil. The kamon are embroidered, and there’s metallic silver in the design; the only way it could be more expensive would be if it was intended for an imperial daughter, and that would require it to be in crimson and gold.” Basil blinks at her, and she shakes her head, amused. “Given that Tsunayoshi’s Japan-born, you should do some research, brat. Given how little time your shared parent spends in the country, he’s likely his mother and grandmother’s child rather than his father’s.”

“Mine spoken Japanese ist perfectly good, obaa-sama.”

She face-palms. “Iemitsu taught you, didn’t he?”

“- he’s done it again, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t know why you keep falling for it, brat.”

“You know why.” She makes an apologetic face at him.

“One of the Mists we have could probably ‘patch’ the skill for you -“

“I’ll consider it.” Basil hums, and flicks through the pile on his desk, clearly looking for something. “If our esteemed obergruppenführer really is planning a faux first generation to manipulate the masses, do we help or do we hinder?”

“Hinder. Definitely hinder. Think of the damage he could do with them as puppets, brat.” Her apprentice shudders. “The core Family and much of the alliance _worship_ the First, but the last thing we need is a fucking vigilante in charge.”

“Given the Estraneo, would it be so bad?”

“We have enough problems containing our current running battles; can you imagine the chaos that would result from a vigilante deciding that, say, the Bovino need to stop their weapons development?”

“It’d be a bloodbath.”

“A very public and hard to conceal one.”

“That would be an understatement.” She returns to the Academy update, skimming through it and something catches her eye. “Iemitsu might have pulled the detail, but the baby Cavallone Sky is due back at school in two hours. Get your ass to Siracusa; I want a report.”

* * *

The CEDeF agent in the Academy office scowls at him, but he has every right to be in the building, even if he doesn’t usually exercise it; Lal might be the one who actually trains him, but he’s on the Academy’s rolls for a variety of reasons, including taking formal examinations. If picking up a set of documents for his instructor happens to put him in convenient proximity to whoever drops off Emiliana di Cavallone, that was merely a coincidence (and if anyone believed that lie, he had some beautiful churches to sell them).

“- Don Cavallone’s taunting the Commander, -“ “- they’re old school friends; haven’t you heard the rumours -“ “- I thought the Don just married -“ “- yeah, but that has to be an arranged marriage; she’s not a local and there’s been no big romantic wedding -“ “- drop _everything_ ; Principal Rossi’s letting them use the arena -“

He drifts in the direction of the school’s reinforced exhibition space, mildly amused. Even if he’d been holed up his estates for most of the last two weeks, Don Cavallone had obviously been listening to the jungle drums, or had an equivalent to himself and his Nonna that he was willing to take advice from. He would be interested to see which of the dozen or so reasons that Cavallone _could_ want to publicly pit himself against the Varia Commander applied.

(Given the Don didn’t tend to try encroach on other Families territories for good reason, the simplest version could be that this was a ‘fuck with my ward and I won’t need help to destroy you’, or given the screws Reborn had loosened in Cavallone’s head, this might be his equivalent of Viagra.)

… Cavallone’s stronger than his file implies. Far stronger. The Varia Commander’s the third or fourth strongest known Rain in the world - it depended on whether one counted his Nonna given her broken Flames and Colonello given the way the pacifiers subverted and subdued their bearers’ Flames - yet Cavallone is holding his own.

There are Mist Flames, strange and strong and he twists his Rain in a well-trained technique; it’s discreet, only designed to save himself from an illusion, and - providing he does an excellent job of acting normal - without alerting the source of it.

“Seriously, Squalo. We’ll go to first blood; nothing permanently disabling. You’ve just been beaten to the prize; it’s not been hidden from you.” He twitches. There was only one thing that Commander Squalo Superbi would consider a prize worth losing his cool over. The Varia Boss’s act was almost perfect, but he’d been raised to be the consummate counter-intelligence officer; he could see right through the illusion.

«check the cradle»

«the feeds are down»

«Cavallone knows something»

“Shitty Horse - no, you’ve been too fucking busy trying to breed your pretty little broodmare for it be you. But you only cram your fucking fences for a really good fucking reason -“ he manages to suppress the urge to snicker; he wonders if the Commander was making the equestrian puns intentionally, to draw attention away from his real alert about the possibility something has happened with Xanxus, or if they were a symptom of something else.

“Exactly.” The way his Flames are twisted and woven through the illusion, and the similarity between his Flames and the Commander’s means he feels the well smothered spark of hope that curls through them. (He wonders if the Commander knows that they’re cousins of a sort. Even if he is from the wrong side of the blankets twice over.) “Don’t give it away.” Fuck, Cavallone definitely knew something, and that was its own problem, one that Lal would have to work on because the leak could easily be Reborn.

«the cradle is empty»

«shit»

«indeed. you’re going to need to talk visconti into releasing innocentia to you; she’ll need a new mission, too»

«damn. she was tricky to get into position; replacing her in the Fort is going to be a headache»

«you did make it sound like an emergency»

He shoves his BlackBerry back into his pocket, making a mental note to look into getting someone into RIM again; life would be so much easier if they could read the encrypted messages, and returns his attention to the sparring match. He might learn something from Cavallone, about Cavallone’s skill set - he would have to write up an assessment; whether he could get either his father or the Ninth to do anything about developing a counter to any new techniques he identified was another matter entirely - or something useful for his role as counter to the Commander. (Perhaps he wouldn’t even try to draw his father’s attention to the documents; was that disloyal?)

He ignores the verbal banter between the two fighters in favour of trying to follow the flow of the Flames in the room, to figure out the mechanisms of the attacks being used; unlike most of those in the room, he had the training to do so and the weapon - his came from the CEDeF armoury, one of a handful of weapons they’d acquired by theft - though his wasn’t as attuned to him as Cavallone’s custom whip and the Commander’s spatha. He certainly couldn’t summon his weapon the way the other Rain just had if he lost his grip on it; instead, he has to rely on a strap looped around his wrist.

Cavallone finishes a complicated acrobatic manoeuvre to avoid the Commander’s blade, and flicks his wrist, a motion that he can’t quite follow, and the tip of the whip catches the back of the Commander’s knee, a spark of inverted Sky Flames spiking straight through the joint.

He half expects the Varia Commander to fight through the blow, but a handful of seconds too late to be anything other than an illusion, blood starts to soak his trouser leg, and the Rain makes a surrender gesture, and he tunes back into the banter. (He’ll let Lal ‘look’ at his memories later, in case he missed something important by ignoring the banter in favour of ‘feeling’ the sparring match’s Flames.)

“Should I tell our Don, Enhydra, or should we just steal the sneaky spy?"

“We don’t know who he belongs to, Emi; they might want him back, loyalty intact.”

“He’s still mine. Can’t you feel how good a match our Flames are?” Warm Sky Flames, young and sweet curl around his, tempting him, whispering of safety, of peace and of having a Home. “Wouldn’t he be pretty between us in a few years?” He hardens his resolve, but the Sky’s song only softens, coaxing, the Mist’s song woven in so neatly he barely notices its presence, and it seeps into the scars and cracks of a hundred attempts by his father to drag him into his Harmony. “And no Sky holds him, Enhydra, or I wouldn’t be so tempted -“

“Why am I being the voice of reason?” Unspoken are the words ‘that is not supposed to be a mist’s role, damnit’.

“Dino said perfect matches were worth burning the world to the ground for. Can’t you feel how good a match it is?” The thread of Mist gets _much_ stronger, teasing and testing and probing and he feels the moment the bond starts to form. (It shouldn’t be possible. Except. Except he meets all the conditions for what used to be called a battle bond. Flames stressed from fighting off another Sky; check. Loyalty shattered by betrayal or held by force; check. Ideal/perfect match available; check. Fuck. At least a Cavallone Sky might be open to negotiations about what he was other than a Guardian in a way a Vongola Sky wasn’t?)

“You get to explain to Romario. And I get a really big bar of chocolate. I’m going to be exhausted for hours -” Mist Flames wrap around him and he tries to fight, but she’s right; she is his Sky. He has a Sky. A twelve-year-old girl. And he doubts she even realised who she just kidnapped given her age; it wasn’t like his was a well-known face, for all he could pass for the First in a certain light.


	12. Lunch Date - POV Hayato

“Ara. Hayato-san? My Sky would like you to join us for lunch and a little shopping.” He eyes the Mist in front of him; he’d done his research in the weeks after Cavallone’s bizarre little trans-asiatic errand, and she was no mere maid. 

“Your Sky, Dokuzakura? Kizuna isn’t Active -”

“Ara. Chrome-chan is a _Mist_. The official line is they have an Activation Disorder. Unofficially, we’re hoping that either exposure to Cavallone-sama’s Flames, or giving birth, might allow them to break through the Seal that’s keeping their Flames from being externalised.”

“You mean that wasn’t wishful thinking?!” Those Sky Flames has been all that has filled his dreams for the last three weeks. “And who the fuck was Stupid enough to Seal Autumn Rain and Blossom Swallow’s daughter?!”

“Oji-sama adopting Kizuna is what made haha-ue decide that adopting Chrome-chan was a reasonable choice. The difference between Kizuna-hime and Chrome-chan is that Kizuna-hime was already on the Asari ie.“ He works through Dokuzakura’s words carefully, weighing the pieces against each other. 

“And you haven’t been able to find the culprit to kill them?”

“Something like that. Their mother signed them over to oji-sama when they were twelve. They needed medical treatment and someone capable of advocating for them.” Dokuzakura eyes him with a thoughtful expression. “If their Sky Flames tempt you, my obā-sensei taught me how to create a substitute bond, or given the way they’re beginning to bond with Cavallone-sama, you could just accept what he’s offering; the two of them will be one Sky within two years, or I’ll inform Interpol about what happened to my birth mother, Hayato-kun.”

He blinks. Dokuzakura raises an eyebrow. “Che. Why are you so fucking eager for me to join your Sky’s Harmony?”

“Because I’m being selfish.” Her answer is brutally honest and it makes him twitch. “I’m used to having my oni-sama watching my back and guarding Kizuna-sama. Not having a Cloud drifting around us is unnerving.” 

“Is he why you’re being so blunt?”

“Haha-ue despairs of my oni-sama; despite being her son, he can’t deal with politics at all.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Dokuzakura inclines her head. “So will you consider my Skies, Hayato-san?”

“Che. I won’t reject them _now_ , but I’ve grown out of chasing every Famiglia that offers me even a _chance_ at a Home, woman.” 

Dokuzakura beams at him, her Mist Flames producing sparkles around her. “Then you’ll join us for lunch, Hayato-san?”

“- sure. Your Sky’s paying though.”

“Of course.” Dokuzakura grins at him, and he eyes her warily. “What do you think of wild boar and truffle ragù, Hayato-san?”

“Delicious.” Her grin turns shark-like. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap though.”

“Ara. So untrusting. I’m offering good food, a little playtime and a low-level contract for a few afternoons a week while Hayato-san considers my Skies.” He makes a hmph sound, and the Mist’s smile turns cheshire-cat like. “If Hayato-san is willing -” 

He takes the held-out hand warily, and the world dissolves into Mist Flames in a way that he’s never experienced before; he fights the urge to flare his Storm to disrupt what’s going on. The world reforms into a room he’s been in once before; the dining room at Villa Cavallone where he’d been fed after his epic escort mission.

“Konnichiwa, Hayato-kun. Would you prefer we speak Italian, or would you like to practise your Japanese?” He bows; Kizuna Cavallone makes a small amused sound. “I’ll take that as a yes, Hayato-kun. My husband tells me your mother was Japanese; did she teach you the language?”

He shakes his head, voice catching in his throat.

“Did I just step on a landmine, Hayato-kun?” He nods, and the Sky in front of him makes a small apologetic sound even as he’s wrapped in Dino Cavallone’s Flames; he doesn’t fight them this time, Dokuzakura’s comments weakening his resolve just enough to let him accept the gesture.

“I knew your father had taken you in, but I assumed it had been a consensual choice on your mother’s part, Hayato.” The Sky Flames wrap around him warm and safe, a sensation reminescent of sitting at his mother’s side playing the piano. “That’s how that set of rules are supposed to work, anyway. It’s meant to ensure that a Don treats his natural children the same as any legitimate ones, especially since so many of the Families have some sort of blood-linked requirments for inheritance, and legitimacy is a religious and soical construct.” Cavallone’s babbling, but he’s being hugged by the man’s wife, and her Mist’s Flames are curled around him, linking them together in a careful web that binds the four of them together. “I know our Rings wouldn’t care which side of the blanket the Cavallone blood came from if the Flame and temperament was right -“

“Yeah, well, my sperm donor is an asshole.” The Sky Flames intensify, and he whines at the back of the throat, resisting the pressure without thinking about it. “Shamal’s the nearest thing I’ve got to a parental figure, and the asshole can’t keep his mouth shut -”

“- it was for a good cause.” He snarls, a stick of dynamite sliding into his hand, and the Sky Flames wrapped around him get even stronger, gaining a fine thread he recognises from the time spent teaching Kizuna sicilian. It helps. It helps more than he wants to admit; he doesn’t like depending on other people for the ability to control his temper. “Do you regret meeting Kizuna, Hayato?” He shakes his head, and he can feel Dokuzakura’s amusement.

“I was impressed with how skillfully you blew his car apart, Hayato; I’ve seen the police report. Did you actually use any explosives at all? Kyō-nii taught me to read between the lines, and I didn’t see any mention of them -”

“Che. For something that simple? Cars are _easy_.”

Cavallone laughs, Sky Flames dancing with amusement. “Shall we move to the dining room? Romario feels impatient, which probably means they’re ready to serve lunch.” He makes a grumbling sound, but allows him to be led through into the formal dining room and served the wild boar and truffle ragù he’d been tempted with.

The conversation over lunch stays light; it would be rude to ruin such delicious and _expensive_ food with more attempts to find out exactly what Cavallone was really up to. When their plates are cleared - he almost asks for a carry-out; while the payment for escorting Kizuna will cover his living costs for almost a year, he’s used to living hand to mouth, and food as tasty as the ragu is costly - Dokuzakura flexes her Flames shifting them to a sitting room in a lazy show of strength that has every hair on the back of his neck prickling.

“Chrome-chan -”

“Bono said I needed to practise until it becomes easy than breathing, Kizuna-hime.” Cavallone pulls his wife in close, and the Japanese Sky melts into the man; Cavallone’s pleasure at the sign of trust spills into the man’s Flames and out into the room and if they told him she was pregnant already, he really wouldn’t be surprised. They’re so clearly besotted with each other that it’s painful. 

“So, Hayato, would you be willing to help Kizuna learn about Sicily before she becomes too notorious to wander freely?” He makes a ‘go on’ sound, and Cavallone shakes his head, amused. “In a few more weeks, we’ll need to start making the sort of big public appearances together that will make Kizuna a target. If she and Chrome have visited places already, then Mist Flames will allow repeat expeditions -”

“Che. Sure. But why not use your own men, Cavallone?”

“Because everyone able to stand up to those who might sniff around Kizuna is too well-known. Most people don’t know how overpowered you are, Hayato; if they did, you’d have faced far more heavy-handed recruiting attempts than you have so far.” 

“In the nicest possible way, who the _fuck_ did you marry, Cavallone?” The Mist laughs and claps.

“Chrome-chan told you he was bright, Cavallone-sama!”

“It’s your secret to tell, koibito.” Kizuna sits up and presses a kiss to the corner of Cavallone’s mouth, and then whispers something in the man’s ear. “Though if you were to share her identity before we’re entirely ready for it to be public, I’d skin and flay you, before having you torn apart by Nuvola and her favourite stallions. She rather likes Kizuna.”

He sits up, the Flames curled around him impressing how serious the Sky in front of him _actually_ was. The threat had been so hyperbolic that he’d been minded to dismiss it until he’d felt the Flames constrict. 

“Dino!”

“You’re already my most precious thing, Kizuna.” The two of them engage in a sickeningly cute moment of affection, and it’s only Chrome’s giggle that breaks into their bubble and returns them to the real world.

“I think we might need to skip the afternoon outing, Kizuna-hime. Perhaps you should let Gokudera-kun into the secret and then steal your husband away? I’ll get him back to Palermo and discuss the importance of not giving your ‘real’ identity away.” Both Skies look at him and blush and he just wants to face-palm.

“So, um, what we’ve been dancing around is that my father is Iemitsu Sawada and I’m legitimate and he doesn’t know I’m here and married to Dino and I don’t want him to know until I’m pregnant -”

He must look confused. “- Reborn found her and was concerned given everything that Iemitsu might marry her off to the Ninth.” He shudders. “Or one of a number of other people, given discussions he’d overheard, and decided I was a significantly better option.”

“I owe that little menace a thank you.”

“I’m sure we can think of something, koibito. If Romario asks, we’re in Kizuna’s suite and we _may_ come out for dinner.” Chrome laughs, making a shoo-ing gesture; he almost jumps out of his skin when Kizuna reaches for something at her waist and Cavallone activates it. His eyes flick to Chrome and she shakes her head, amused.

“They’re awful. And they just used a very, very old artifact meant to be for defense and to make the household easier to run to escape for an afternoon ‘booty’ call.” He pulls a face at her choice of word, and she grins. “Aren’t masks useful, Gokudera-kun?”


	13. First Times - POV Tsuna/Kizuna

“I need some _brain_ bleach.” Dino laughs and kisses them, and they don’t protest. He’s very, very good with his tongue, and it’s an excellent distraction from thinking about the three men their father might have sold them to if he’d known they were more Kizuna than Tsuna. Except that they can’t stop thinking those thoughts, and they whine and thump their husband’s chest.

“Not enough, koibito?”

“You made me think about Timo’s cock.” Their husband shudders. “And him putting it inside me.”

“How can I make it up to you, koibito?” They press up onto their tiptoes, and steal another kiss, and grope their husband shamelessly. “Shall I put something more attractive inside you, or shall I teach you how to put something more fun inside _me_?” Their little cock twitches and they rut against their husband’s thigh.

“Maybe both?” Their husband laughs and presses his thigh more firmly against their little cock.

“Greedy, but I think we can do that. Why don’t you let me make one or two preparations? They’ll make everything more fun.” 

“Don’t leave me alone too long -”

“Why don’t you try putting the little vibrator I gave you in your pretty slit, koibito?” They flush and squirms at the memory of how hard they’d cum when Dino had introduced them to their first sex toy. “Remember we decided you’d need to be really wet and relaxed for us to try penis-in-vagina sex, koibito.” 

Their husband slips back through into his own room, and they shake their head, amused, before shedding their yukata and digging in the keepsake box they’d repurposed. (Did it count as repurposing? Their husband had given them the toy and it was going to be sentimental when they stopped needing it.) 

They sprawl on their bed, on top of the soft, fluid-resistant blankets, and stroke themselves, teasing their cock; they’d had long discussions, curled up in their bed about how sex might work between them. Stroking their cock feels sweet and good, and they feel themselves getting slick, too. They flail with their free hand a little, looking for the vibrator they’d put down; it takes a moment, and they actually manage to activate it accidentally. They break into giggles, holding it, and that, of course, is the moment their husband walks back into their room buck-ass naked.

His cock is intimidating, but in a good way; it makes their slit throb and Dino grins at them and drops to his hands and knees at the bottom of the bed. He crawls up to the bed and presses them into the pillows, kissing them with a level of greedy need that has them arching into his body.

“Shall I play with you a little bit, koibito, or skip to showing you how to fuck me?” They whine and their husband kisses them again, and steals the little vibrator from their hand. They shiver and squeal when it’s run gently over their slick slit and slipped inside. “Shhh. You like the sensation, koibito. Relax into it, figure out how to ride it -” They nod, and squirm on the slim impalement, fucking themselves with it gently. “- you look and sound so good like this, koibito. Having you on my cock is going to be _incredible_.” They flush and cum, pleasure rippling out from their core, and their husband coos as their little cock and slit both squirt.

“Anata -” Their husband grins down at them and presses a kiss to the corner of their mouth. “- weren’t you going to teach me something?” 

“I was, and I still am.” He leans in for another kiss, nipping at their lower lip, and they whine. “But you’d have cum very, very quickly, koibito. I know I did when I first fucked a man’s ass.” They giggle.

“I bet the Commander teased you.” Their husband flushes adorably. “How much of your cock did you manage to get into him before you came?”

“The head. In my defense, he did feel very good squeezing it, koibito. And I’ve acquired a little stamina since then.” They pet their husband, and he presses a kiss to each of their hands in turn. “So given I’ve cleaned up especially for you to play with, koibito, why don’t I talk you through proper preparation and fucking etiquette?” 

“Lube’s important, right?”

“Very. Especially since we need to order you some custom condoms, koibito, and I used an enema to prepare. If you decided you like to fuck me a lot, we’ll need to use less and less lube with time, but for now there’s no such thing as too much.” They nod, and their husband tugs the vibrator out of their little slit carefully; it makes them feel empty and they’re almost tempted to beg for their husband’s cock, but they’ve been curious about topping since they decided to keep their own.

“How often is often?”

“Koibito, you’re _evil_.” Their husband pushes up onto his knees, and twists to grab the tub of lube off their vanity. “But for reference, when I was losing to Squalo multiple times a week, I didn’t tend to need lube to enjoy it. Any less frequent and I need help.” They make an intrigued sound, making their husband flush. 

“Even if I don’t like using my cock to do it, there’s still things that I could tease my lovely husband with, aren’t there?” Their husband flushes very prettily. “Like the little toy he gave me, only scaled up a bit -”

“ _Tease._ ” They grin up at their husband. “I’m going to lay on my front, koibito, and spread my legs. I suspect you’ll be able to figure the next two or three steps out given our other discussions.” Their husband hands them the lube, and sprawls next to them; they take a moment to admire his skin art, pressing delicate kisses to the coloured skin, before kneeling up on slightly shaky legs and putting the tub in the small of their husband’s back.

They shift carefully, until they’re knelt between their husband’s spread legs - they’d have to make time to watch him in the Villa’s gymnasium; they were spread _very_ wide - and dip two fingers in the tub of lube. Dino makes a small squeak when they touch the small dark pucker he’s revealed, and they giggle. “Cold?”

“And I haven’t lost to Squalo for almost a year, so the only person who has touched me there since then did so for a routine medical examination.” Their husband wriggles his shoulders, and does something, and when they press, their fingers sink inside his body, and both of them moan in appreciation as they do so. “Fuck, that feels good, koibito. Curl your fingers for me gently, aiming towards my cock -”

They try it, feeling the soft skin inside him under their fingertips, stroking it until he’s arching and moaning and fucking himself on their fingers. 

“Now scissor them, just a bit, koibito, -” the ring of muscle around their fingers is tight, and they work cautiously, returning for more lube over and over again, until the hole they’re working sounds like their slit when they’re chasing a second orgasm. “- I think I’m wet enough, pretty one. We’re going to have to experiment with angles, and that’s hard unless you’re hard, so give yourself a stroke, and let’s see if we can make this work.” They flush and barely remember to put the tub of lube somewhere safe; they’ve been looking forward to this for _days_.

Fucking Dino with their fingers and stroking themself with their other hand takes a little more effort, but the potential reward is well worth the effort, and seeing their big husband obligingly hold himself open to be fucked despite his titles and his power is _hot_. 

Lining themself up with his hole is tricky; they’ve never tried to do it before, but they manage it, and press in, and it’s so intense that they almost bite through their lip. Their husband is hot and wet, and their hips jerk without their permission. 

Their husband hisses and clenches around them, setting up a chain reaction; their hips jerk and Dino’s hole clenches, and they’re fairly sure their husband is enjoying himself given the noises he’s making, but: “Good, Anata?”

“Very. I think, koibito, you have the Vongola Hyper intuition.” Their husband pants the words, a flush creeping up his back. “You’re hitting the right spot _every_ time.” They squeak, and their husband squeezes their cock again, and their hips jerk, and they try to figure out how to do this consciously through a fog of pleasure that’s trying to wrap around them. “Stop overthinking it, koibito, and enjoy it.”

They laugh, and roll their hips, and let their ‘intuition’ - and their husband’s moans - guide them. (They want him to cum first; if their roles were reversed, he’d insist on that.) 

Dino hisses and clenches almost painfully tight around them, spasming a half a dozen times, before going limp, and they chase their own pleasure, stroking themself with his body until they cum, too. They collapse forward onto their husband, their cock slipping free of his hole, and he moves surprisingly quickly, turning so they end up sprawled on his chest.

“Okay, we’re doing that again.” Dino laughs, and kisses their nose.

“I certainly wouldn’t object, koibito. Especially if your intuition keeps kicking in.” They bury their head in his chest and whine, their cheeks burning. “Your little cock felt _very_ good in my arse. Can I try and reciprocate, lovely? I can feel your little slit _dripping_ onto me -” they nod, and their husband rolls them both over and they spread their legs obligingly; he settles between them.

Their husband reaches over the edge of the bed, dips his fingers in the tub of lube, and slicks himself; they squirm and flush, the sounds making their little cock twitch.

“Tell me if it hurts, koibito, and we’ll stop.” They nod, and then their husband is pressing into their body, his cock hot and hard and slick with lube, and their body surrenders, stretching reluctantly around it. It aches a little, but they want their husband inside them so much that they tug on him, making him chuckle. “Slowly, koibito. We can go at it hard and fast on round two or three; I need to know that my cock will fit inside you, first.” 

“Please, husband.” Dino’s resolution wavers, and then his big hands ease under their ass, and tilt their hips for them, and they shriek as he slides in impossibly deep, and the stretch teeters on the edge of too much. “Fuck, you’re so _deep_ , anata.”

“You’re doing _very_ well, koibito.” Their husband’s thumb strokes their cock, making them shiver and clench around him. “That’s two-thirds of my cock inside your pretty slit; do you want to try for more?” They nod, and then whine as he responds by pulling out almost entirely. “Shhh. I just need some leverage, lovely. I like the way your pretty slit feels around my cock, and I’m in no hurry to give it up -”

Dino shifts his grip on them, using his thumbs to spread their lips wide, and then thrusts back in and they squeak as he sinks even deeper into their body. He repeats it twice more, and they shiver each time, muscles clenching spasmodically as their big husband settles his cock fully inside their body. 

“Oh, you just grow more and more perfect for me, koibito. The prettiest little cock to fuck me with, and the cutest little slit for my cock.” They flush, and tug at their husband’s shoulders, wanting him to shut up and kiss them. 

Dino obliges them, arching his back to allow it, and they gasp as it forces his cock a tiny bit deeper making something inside them stretch in a way that feels better than it’s probably supposed to. He breaks off the kiss and starts to move again, pulling out and pressing back in again, his irises limned in orange fire, and it feels so good to have him inside their body. It feels so good, so _intimate_. 

“Stroke your pretty little cock for me, koibito, and tell me if I manage to find an angle that you _really_ like.” They nod, and he settles into a steady pattern that they envy slightly, but their husband has been open about having had plenty of practise, so they guess they’ll figure it out eventually, and he had definitely enjoyed their first attempt. They palm their cock carefully, playing with it, trying to figure out what would work best - their husband is making it dizzyingly hard to think with his big cock - and use their other hand to cling to their husband, nails digging into his skin.

Their orgasm creeps up on them; they’re already floating from the pleasure they’d derived from fucking their husband, and the intimacy of his movement inside them has fed into it, kept the glow warm and diffuse, so to have it suddenly explode on them takes them by surprise. It takes their husband by surprise, too; his thrusts stutter and he slams in deep and kisses them like they’re the only source of air in the universe as fire dances around them. “Love you, anata.”

“That’s the endorphins talking, pretty one.” They pull a face at him, but he kisses the tip of their nose. “I’m going to pull out and it’s probably going to feel very weird. I know it did for me the first time I received.” They’ve seen their husband’s small hole open for their fingers, slick and shiny with lube, and imagining that hole opened wider and dribbling cum is enough to make their slit twitch around the cock softening inside it. “Later, koibito. A second-round right now will leave you too sore for bedtime and too sore for breakfast, and I’m not up to asking either Romario or Chrome to fix that for us; are you?”

"Maybe Chrome-chan. But Chrome-chan is my, uh, maid? The word doesn’t translate well. She’d probably know I’m pregnant before I do.” He eases himself out of their slit carefully, and they whine; the feeling of being empty is, indeed, weird. 

“Shhh. You’ll thank me later when you can still ride Nuvola in the morning. I learned moderation the hard way, koibito; I overdid it and then had to suffer through Reborn’s idea of training.” They giggle, and their husband pushes up, off them, showing off all his lovely muscles and pretty art - and a cock that they’re still confused about their ability to take - and stretches, then scoops them up, making them squeak a little bit. “A bath will help with the muscle aches and given you’ve got a fūro -”

“Was that a plea to cuddle, o husband mine?” He nods, and they snuggle into him. “Deal. But we should shower first -”

“Ah, but your fūro was a wedding gift, pretty one. Reno added some filters to it.” They bat at him for the lascivious grin and he laughs and carries them through into their bathroom.


	14. 'In Which Basil Gets Starry-Eyed' - POV Dino

He blinks when he steps into the informal dining room. He’d been expecting his youngest Sky - Emiliana was living in the Villa while he trained her to ensure that none of the smaller Families without a reliable Sky-line tried to steal her - and her Mist, but the presence of Sawada’s apprentice, sat between them, was a surprise he wasn’t sure about. Given the way Emiliana bristles as he curls his Flames around his wife, defensive, a precaution against a surprise attack, and then mimics his actions almost precisely, he sighs.

“Romario, I think your curse took a little too well.” He manages to put just enough amusement in his voice to make it clear that he isn’t serious. 

“I’d have told you earlier, Boss, but you were hiding in the Donna’s suite.” Kizuna giggles. “Judging by the noises and your Flames, you wouldn’t have thanked me for interrupting, anyway, Boss.” 

“TMI, ’maro. TMI.” His ward flails her hands and he tilts his head in confusion.

“Too much information, husband. She doesn’t want to know about our sex life.” His Sun feels amused, and he’s not sure he wants to know why. “Who is your Rain, Emi-chan? He feels familiar, but I don’t know why.” His ward makes a small squeak, and he probably should take mercy on her, but she’s brought this on herself.

“Um. I don’t know why he feels familiar to you, Donna Kizuna, -” The Rain’s eyes meet his, briefly, before flicking to his wife, and he has to work hard not to flare his Flames. “- but his name is Basil and he’s my Rain.”

“That’s a very polite version, cavalluccia.” Emiliana pouts at his Sun. “Tell the Boss the rest of it.”

“She’s my Sky, Don Cavallone. I know that’s going to make things difficult -” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not you, Basil. If Emiliana says you’re her Rain, I believe her, but we’re not ready for the Vongola to know about my Donna.”

“Yet you tell Commander Superbi about her -”

“- have you ever asked your father why Xanxus di Varia rebelled, Basilicum?” His ward’s Rain blinks, and he pulls out the bench and seats his wife, who leans into his hand, and settles themself with a slight wince that says he was right to refuse them a second round.

“I don’t have a father, Don Cavallone. My mother was one of milord’s senior officers -”

“Chrome-chan, would you mind creating a small illusion for me?”

“Ara, all Chrome-chan’s Sky has to do is ask.”

“We need your other self for a moment, if you don’t mind, koibito?”

“If you’re sure -” the illusion settles over his wife and Emiliana squeaks, her eyes flashing orange, her head moving so fast that he’s actually a little worried that she’s going to give herself whiplash. Basil, on the other hand, looks stunned, presumably because he’s looking in a slightly darker mirror.

Chrome dispels the illusion, and Kizuna shakes their head and stretches. “He’s my brother, isn’t he, husband? And as he had me tested to make sure I was his according to my medical records, he has to be Basil-kun’s father, too. I vote that Emiliana gets to keep him and we cover the man in honey and fire ants.”

He snorts. “Later, koibito. Let Reborn have some time to fulfil his contract first.” He tugs his pretty wife into his lap, and steals a kiss. “If we topple the edifice now, there’ll be a lot less time to work on filling our nursery, sweetheart.” They thump his chest, but lean into him in a way that says they don’t mind too much and Romario perks up in a way that makes him want to pet him. He’d almost forgotten how fond his Sun was of the Family’s babies.

“What does that mean for me, Conte Cavallone?” He raises an eyebrow at the civilian title; his youngest Sky had obviously actually been talking to her new Rain while he’d been cock deep in his pretty wife.

“It depends. If you want out of the CEDeF now, then we can stage a messy murder scene, and Bono will help Enhydra keep you hidden for now; if you don’t, I’ll insist that he helps you build a secure memory palace. I have no desire to see Emi co-opted into such a corrupt organisation.” Basil bites his lip.

“If I can talk Nonna into defecting with me, will you hide her too, Conte Cavallone?” 

“- _Nonna_?” His wife sounds confused, and he sorts through the people Basil could possibly mean. “Otousama doesn’t have any living relatives -”

“She’s not a blood relative, Contessa. Lal Mirch didn’t trust, um, father to raise me, so she hit him with her shotgun until he agreed she could raise me as her apprentice.”

“You don’t need to call me Contessa, Basil. When’s your birthday?” The Rain names a date that makes his wife wince. He doesn’t understand the relevance; he’ll have to ask them later. “You can call me o-nee-chan, or aneki, if you can’t convince yourself to use my name, otouto.” The Rain looks flustered, and Emiliana wraps her Flames around him, and he adds his Flames to the room, blanketing everyone present. Kizuna melts into him, and he presses a kiss to the tip of their nose.

“She wouldn’t be the first Arcobaleno we’ve hosted, but I’ve learned the hard way not to presume about what one of their illustrious number wants, Basil; what holds her at the CEDeF?” His wife’s twin looks at him in half-terror, and he blinks in confusion, and thickens his Flames further, trying to be reassuring.

“Can I tell him for you, sweetheart?” Emiliana’s voice is soft, and he wants to whine; he’s not ready for her to be interested in boys! Basil nods, and slides along the bench and leans into her. “The Arcobaleno curse hurts her and she needs a Sky nearby even if they’re not _her_ Sky. Iemitsu insinuated that it was physically costly for her to lean into his Flames, but I don’t care, I’m willing to help her, Dino -”

“ _If_ she wants to defect, we’ll discuss her needs, cavalluccia. I was always _aware_ of Reborn, but then he made me aware of him whether I liked it or not.” Kizuna giggles, and tilts their head, inviting another kiss. He rewards their request, and they purr.

“I think I lucked out with Fon being my Arcobaleno in residence, husband. He may have annoyed Chrome and I’s oni-sama, but he liked to teach and wasn’t cruel about it.”

“Chrome-chan has finally infected Kizuna-sama, desu!” The Mist cheers.

His wife, on the other hand, facepalms. “And Haru-chan has apparently infected Chrome-chan. How _is_ Haru-chan, Chrome-chan?”

“She’s bored. Takeshi and Kyōya are self-wrangling.” His wife chokes.

“Namimori is going to have burnt to the ground next time I visit otousan and o-kaa-chama, hasn’t it?”

“Would Eiko let them do that?” Chrome snorts.

“We’ll have to go check at some point, koibito. But not until everything is more stable.” He presses a kiss to his wife’s nose. “Maybe when you’re showing, so your adoptive father can sponsor our ie.” His pretty wife flushes, and bites their lip.

“You might want to practise more with Squalo first, anata. Otousan will want to test your ability to protect me, especially if I’m showing when we visit.”

“Otousan and Otousama - you’re using it to refer to different people, right, o-nee-sama?”

“Yup. We share our otousama - unfortunately; even legally married to o-kaa-san he’s useless - but otousan is my zokuchō, and he and his wife took me in when kaa-san got … ill.”

“- Basil, can you help me learn Japanese?” The Rain beams at his ward and nods, and he whines very, very softly.

“They’re adorable, anata. They’re not going to do anything for a while, and she’s not the only Sky in your Clan, so she’s not going to have a premature drive to have babies. You’ve accidentally built a really safe place for juvenile Skies to grow up, husband.” Their words are soft enough not to carry, and he grumbles and kisses their nose gently.

“You’re perfect, koibito.” His wife blushes. “So which is it, Basil, a messy faux-murder, or staying in place a little longer?” The little Rain bites his lip. 

“I need to warn Nonna. I’d really rather not stay with _Him_ -” the Rain waves his hand failing at words.

“Do you think our Cloud might like to have some fun, koibito? I can run the money through Switzerland and make it clear it’s a paid-hit -”

“You have a Cloud?”

“We’re, uh, courting one. And they do like opportunities to show off.” Basil blinks, and he grins. “If Bono watches over you, can you last a week, kiddo? He’s capable of proximity-transport so we can pull you out in a hurry if need be.”

“How have you been hiding _everything_?!”

“What are the two most common Flame types among the Cavallone, Basil?”

“Sky and Sun -”

He winces, and Kizuna giggles. “- I’m surprised that even the CEDeF fell for that particular ruse, though we have been running a _very_ long con. Romario, tell Basil what our Flame Active numbers look like, please.”

“As of last month we had three hundred and fifty Mists, though less than two-per-cent are transport capable, and only ten-per-cent routinely use their Flames for anything even somewhat crime-adjacent. The favourite use is for entertainment. There are two hundred and thirty-two Lightnings; the first thing we teach them when they go active is to make their Flames Hard to notice. In contrast, we have ten human Skies and only thirty-seven Suns, of which only two are capable of healing more than minor wounds.”

Basil blinks, stunned, and he grins. “It’s amazing what a creative Mist can do when people aren’t looking for their Flame.”


	15. Delivery - POV Xanxus

“I think this is yours, Xanxus.” He looks up from the notes he’s reading - Reborn had kicked him around the training area beneath the Villa when he protested he had minions for this shit - and blinks in disbelief at the sight of his Rain, gagged and wrapped in chains over Cavallone’s shoulder.

“ _Husband_.” The voice is soft and high-pitched, with a non-european accent, and it has to be Cavallone’s new wife; she was Japanese, right?

“It was worth it for his expression, koibito.” The chains and gag fall away, clearly Mist constructs, as two women follow the other Sky into the room.

Once the other Sky had dumped his Rain on the other end of the couch - his Rain looks somewhat beaten up - his shark inspects him visually. “Voooiii. You look half dead, shitty Boss! Isn’t the bloody Arcobaleno looking after you properly?”

“To quote my current torturer: not my sort of miracle.”

Cavallone laughs. “That does sounds like my ‘favourite’ sadist. Do you want me to get one my medical types to come up and give you a proper check up?”

“Voooiii! What’s in it for you, shitty Horse?”

“Well, I do need your Sky’s permission to keep kicking your ass, and he’s owed recompense for the, uh, minor theft that we’re about to execute.”

“Shark-trash, what the fuck have you been up to?”

“Getting the Sky Flames he needed to stay sane from the most palatable available source, Xanxus-sama.” His manic junior Mist’s female döppelganger grins at him. "Which has to have been a thoroughly enjoyable process to watch given Kizuna-sama’s blushes over the last few days.”

“Chrome-chan!” The little ball of fluff that’s clearly Cavallone’s wife goes scarlet. “It’s bad enough you’ve hidden that sheet as evidence!”

“Tsch. You’re just like your brother.” The female version of his junior Mist freezes. “Shark, haven’t you told her about her older sibling?”

“Voooiii! I was waiting for the walking corpse to come back from his little expedition with our favourite ball of murderous rage.” His shark glares at him, and he drags him close and buries his nose in his shark’s hair. His stupidly, ridiculously long hair.

“Trash, what the fuck’s with the hair?”

“I swore I wouldn’t cut until a swordsman defeated me or you were the Tenth, shitty-Boss. While I _let_ the Horse beat me ’cause the forfeit has been helping with shit, no one else has thrashed me hard enough to force it, and well you aren’t Tenth yet.”

“You’ll keep it even when I am, shark-trask. Do you like it being pulled on?” Given the expression on Cavallone’s face, his shark does.

“Voooiii. I’m not answering that, shitty-Boss.” He snorts and wraps his hand in it, making his Rain squirm and resist, and he contemplates the possibilities, especially as the Horse was the honorable sort which meant he would leave his Shark to him now.

“Do we need to leave you two to your reunion?”

“Voooiii, -“

“- please.” His Shark shudders and goes limp in his grip at the single word and everything it implies.

“Look after him. It’s been a long ten years and he’s only let me help so much, Xanxus. We’ll be back for a late lunch and to take him back to the Villa -“ he wants to snarl, wants to keep his Shark close, but he knows he can’t; he has enough of a fucking brain to override his instincts. “- but I should be able to get a medic and your Sun up here by twilight.”

“Fuck off, then.” The Mist laughs and he focuses on his Rain rather than their transport technique. “You grew up, shark-trash.”

“Sort of unavoidable, shitty-Boss.” He tightens the fist in his Rain’s hair, and Squalo arches, showing off the column of his throat. “The old men fucked us both over.”

“Tell me about the little ball of sky-flavoured fluff Cavallone’s infatuated with. There’s something weird about her.”

“Of course you’d fucking notice that, shitty-Boss. _They’re_ the other Decimo candidate. Or rather they were until your shitty-tutor decided they’d look prettier impaled on the Horse’s oversized cock.”

“You too fucked out for me, then, shitty-shark?”

“Voooiii! Not unless you’ve regressed and have a kiddie-cock, Boss; arses don’t get loose & sloppy unless you’re lazy.”

“Then get it over here and let me fuck it.”

“Voooiii! Youu only had to ask, shitty-Boss.” He releases his shark’s hair and his Rain flushes and stands up, shoving his clothes off with indecent haste. “You’ll need your flames and some lube; unlike the Horse, my arse doesn’t self-lubricate.” He raises an eyebrow, and Squalo flushes. “Voooiii. I got a bit careless with him when Reborn was paying me. It was a perk and he enjoyed it.”

“Gun oil do?” His shark glares at him. “It’s the good stuff; the torturer at least gave me access to the Villa lab and forge.”

“Voooiii. Be prepared to relube if shit gets dry.” He tugs his Rain close, scarred and calloused hands stroking over skin still soft and fine and mostly undamaged and humming in pleasure as his Rain surrenders to him, Flames rolling gently like a puppy eager to be petted. He teases them both by tugging his Rain - full grown and all that hair - close, and teasing his ass; it takes his finger so easily that he wants to whine. Their first attempt at fucking had taken hours, but he could probably just slick up and slide into his Rain and it would be so sweet.

“Just slick my dick, or do I need to shove some inside?” He wriggles the finger inside his shark, trying to find where the fuck his shitty-shark’s sweet spot is. He knew where the damn thing was six weeks ago in his personal timeline, but his shitty-shark had grown, and he couldn’t find the damn thing.

His shitty shark makes a small noise and clenches and he grins. “Just put some oil on it and stick your damn cock in my ass. Experience says you’ll be a fucking tease otherwise.”

“That wasn’t teasing. That was you being uptight.” His shark swats at him, and reaches between them to unzip his pants and fishes his cock out a little roughly. “Shit, be careful, the scars are all over the fucking place. Haven’t managed to get off by myself yet.” His Rain hisses and slows down, stroking his cock apologetically, and makes a gimmme gesture with his other hand. He hands him the oil and leans back as his shark slicks his cock.

Shit. His shark was hot and felt so fucking good around his cock that he was on the edge of orgasming and his shitty-shark wasn’t even fully fucking impaled. His cock feels weird, unfamiliar - goddamn scarring - more and less sensitive, and then his shark is down, seated in his lap properly, arse rippling around his cock and fuck he was going to have to thank Cavallone for breaking his Rain in properly; only needing a bit of slick would made quickies far more doable than four hours of fingering had.

“Got the stamina to fuck me properly, shitty Boss, or do I need to do all the fucking work?”

“Nah, the torturer’s good for something, shitty-shark.” He leans into his Flames and grips his Rain’s hips, standing up carefully, delighting in the small squeak undignified that earns him as even more of his cock is forced into his Rain’s arse by gravity. “First fucking thing he worked on was stamina. I bet I could fuck you like this for hours.” He bounces his shark carefully, hissing in pleasure at the sensation of the barely-slick drag of sweet, tight heat against his scarred cock. “Gotta to work to get you off, or will your slutty little hole ripple around my cock by itself?”

“Fuck me right and I’ll get off from it. And fuck, the scarring on your shitty cock feels good, Boss.” He glares at his Rain, and Squalo laughs, quivering around him, and fuck, that feels good. He bounces his shark on his cock, small pleased sounds escaping them both as they get thoroughly re-fucking-acquainted with each other. His shark cums two or three times before he gives up - he’s not sure, the first one could have been his shitty-shark faking or trying to get him off - and he flops back onto the couch and finally kisses his shark with vicious hunger.

“I might have to learn to take it up the ass, trash. I think the fucking ice broke my cock.” His shark whines and presses into his harsh kisses, muscles desperately trying to milk the cock he’s impaled on. “I should have cum by now, especially with you so fucking eager for cock, shark-trash.”

“It has its perks.” He laughs as his shark takes over riding his cock, fucking himself eagerly on him. “If I don’t worry about you going soft -”

“And it has its downsides, shitty-shark. From the fucking feel of things we could fuck each other raw, and you’d be the only one who got off.” His shark slows, and gives him a look that says he’s actually listening. “You’ve cum, what three times?”

“Yeah. One more? Then I’ll see if I can get you off with fingers and mouth, Boss.” He makes a go ahead gesture, and his shark fucks himself on him lazily, clearly searching for the best angle and thoroughly enjoying himself; he pours his Flames into his Rain, filling him so full he can barely feel his trash’s own Flame, and his shark cums, explosively. Messily. And it still isn’t enough. “Fuck I needed that, Boss. Your cock and your Flames. Let me try and get you off -” He nods, and his shark levers himself up, off his cock, and he mourns the loss of slick heat. “- clean yourself off, Boss. If you want my mouth on your cock -”

He lets his Flames drift over his skin, cleaning the oil off, and his shark slides down, and swallows him with impressive competency, only lifting his head after showing off his deep throating skills.

“Shit. Give me the fucking oil. And fucking talk to Lussuria and the Cavallone medic this evening. Not being able to get off is fucking _wrong_.” He shoves the vial in his Rain’s direction, and his shark resumes sucking his cock and slides one cautious finger into his ass. It feels weird, but his shark’s finger homes in on his fucking prostate almost immediately, and he melts into the dual sensations and his shark sucks his orgasm right out of him. “Better?”

He grins dazedly at his shark, and drags him - by his hair - back up off the floor to cuddle in a very manly sort of way. “Can feel you properly, again.” His shark making a spluttering protest as he nuzzles at him lazily. “Promise’ll tell Lussuria’s my cock’s broken.” His shark makes a hmph sound, and he tugs on his hair gently. “Your hole’s fucking sweet, trash. I want to get off in it.” His Rain snorts again, and then falls asleep on him, hair covering them both a la Lady-fucking-Godiva and he finds himself floating, his shark’s warm, rain-heavy form in his lap oddly comforting.

“Ten minute warning for lunch.” He blinks, and glares at Cavallone as he comes round fully, but his shark’s weight and barely concealed nudity keep him from moving. Even if the other Sky has been the one screwing his shark in his absence. “You two settled shit then? He’s never napped on me like that.”

He curls his Flames around his Rain carefully, keeping them soothing albeit possessive. “Thank you for keeping him alive, Horse-trash, and if you ever tell anyone I said that -” Cavallone salutes, and closes the door carefully. He lets his Flames flare more prickly, and Squalo whines, making him laugh. “- lunch bell, shitty-shark. And we’ve got guests -”

They both put clothes back to rights - he also snags his shark and braids his stupid long hair, possessively; he’d have to make some traps to weave into it - and slink into the main dining room; lunch is a stew that tastes fucking delicious and makes him laugh.

“Off your land, or from elsewhere, Cavallone?”

“The Sky-led sounder have opinions on ‘good’ behaviour in the males they allow to stick around. We have a surfeit of meat at the moment without any need to hunt.” A ripple of amusement goes around the room. “So, the, ah, theft. One of my junior Skies - she’s 12 - has bonded with Lal Mirch’s apprentice at CEDeF.”

“He survived? I remember when he was the same size as her, but I’d have thought Idiotsu would have gotten him killed.”

“She bonded Basilicum?”

“She kidnapped him from our sparring match with her Mist’s assistance and had him thoroughly wrapped up in her Flames - a full battle bond, by the way - before anyone realised.” He makes a go on gesture. “If we were to out Kizuna fully, he could seek refuge with his sister, but that’s still risky given the way their father’s manoeuvring, so we’re going to stage an accident to get him out. But that may result in Lal Mirch walking away from the CEDEF …”

“… someone cursed you, shitty-Horse. If CEDEF collapses, it collapses, Boss. Viper’s been itching to rebuild it, and between your potential allies, we’ve got all the fucking police under surveillance, and at least in the shitty-Horse’s case, a totally reasonable and legitimate relationship with them.”

“Ah, husband, given we took them boar chewed body parts last week and they just thanked us for finding some identifiable bits, Squalo’s right. You do have a reasonable relationship with them.” The bit of fluff is adorable, and Cavallone clearly besotted. He’d have hated to see the arseholes trying to turn her into a Decima. "And apologies, Xanxus-san, but we do need to take Squalo home with us. Things are a little touchy right now, and even I can tell that the Commander disappearing on Cavallone lands would be … expensive."

"Understood, fluff-hime. I'm not happy with it, but I understand it. And Horse-trash, consider your 'fee' decent carabinieri intel while the CEDEF's down. I want to totally fucking reorient the damn organisation anyway; there's no fucking way they're doing their job, even with Mirch's boot up their ass." Cavallone salutes and the meal finishes in quiet small talk; the stew's damn tasty and the company pleasant, and he resists the temptation to snarl and hiss and spit when Squalo's herded away from him.

He's distracted from his self-pity by the return of his new tutor and a knife thrown at his head. "Had fun?"


	16. "You want me to do *what*?" - POV Hayato

“You want me to do _what_?!”

“Blow up a CEDEF convoy and make it look like it was fatal. But without seriously injuring the target.” He rubs his forehead with heel of his hand, and Cavallone makes a small sound at the back of his throat. “We’re trying to extract Basilicum safely.”

“And this is your idea of a solution?”

“I thought you’d enjoy the challenge.”

“I will. But fuck, you’re asking me to declare war on the goddamn CEDEF.” His fingers twitch, and Cavallone’s damn Flames wrap around him, wriggling into all the tiny cracks in his resolve. “Kizuna wants her little brother safe, doesn’t she?”

“She does.” More warmth oozes down the faux-bond that Dokuzakura had created between him and the Cavallone Don, and he sighs, and lets the Sky Flames wrap around him. “I set it up as an anonymous contract through the normal cut outs, with a plausible reason why I want their convoy hit. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll take the best offer and Bono’ll yank Basil out at the last possible moment.”

He glares at his faux-Sky. “The two idiots most likely to take the contract’ll leave him needing surgery. Couldn’t he just stay put?”

“Bono says no. He’s already had to redirect two attempts to suborn the kid. You try telling Emiliana and Kizuna he’s got to stay in danger and see how long you last.”

“Che. You’re pussy-whipped, Cavallone.”

“I prefer to think of it as Cloudy and eager to keep my territory content, thank you very much.” He eyes the smug Sky and remembers their spouse’s fluctuating gender in Dokuzakura’s Mist space.

“But buggery won’t result in spawn. Don’t you need them pregnant, asap?” Cavallone goes pink and splutters, and he resists the urge to cackle. "You need the marriage contract sealed and inviolate, ne?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Che. The contracts took; maybe they just need a ‘how to control their fertility’ lecture from my pervert-Zio?” Cavallone actually looks thoughtful, clearly counting something and coming up with an answer that makes him facepalm.

“I’ll ask Chrome. Will you take the contract?”

“Kizuna and Emiliana both know I could still cripple him, right? I’m just the best damn explosives engineer in Sicily at the moment.” 

“They do.”

“Che. Fine. I need his movements for the next fortnight; I’ll tell your Mist, but not him. Sawada’s got good enough Flame senses to tell whether he responded ‘right’ to the threat, and you’ll never sell it as a death otherwise.” Cavallone twitches his Flames slightly - he’ll never get used to how many fucking bonds the man carries and so easily - and there’s a shimmer of Mist Flames.

“You rang, Boss?”

“I did. Where’s Basil, Bono?” The Mist stretches, Flames flexing in what looked to him like the equivalent of a stretch.

“Basil’s upstairs with the girls; he’s not due at work until lunchtime. He and Ms. Mirch are avoiding Sawada right now.” The Mist yawns, and finally notices him. “- ah, Smoking Bomb. Does this mean you’ll take the contract? The kid needs to spend his days asleep, head in his Sky’s lap rather than dodging his father’s pickaxe.”

“How much notice do you need to snatch him out of the way of an IRA-grade car bomb, Bono?”

“Radio or timer?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not the first explosives expert I’ve worked with Hayato. Admittedly, not since Don Gio was in charge, but still. I’m assuming, given we’re trying to snatch Basil free, that you’d be using one of the more controllable-but-traceable methods rather than something more creative.”

“Locational, actually. They’ve gotten much better than they used to be. It reduces the risk of there being Carabinieri lurking close by, especially if you create them a nice distraction on the other side of the city.” Cavallone pulls a face, and he raises an interrogative eyebrow. “Issues, Cavallone?”

“Given the comfortable relationship between Conté Cavallone and the Carabinieri, Hayato, I think I can ensure they’re nowhere near the scene without needing one of your classic distractions, ne?”

“If you want to deal with the attention -”

“- I have a pretty new bride and civic responsibilities, Hayato. I’m sure we can make an entertaining splash, if only because they don’t want to look behind the curtain too hard; the local government can’t afford to look after this sub-province without raising the taxes so high Siracusa will revolt. I’m a much more palatable option as long as I don’t make them think about everything too hard.” 

Bono laughs. “Good luck selling it to the little Donna, Boss. I know what you’re thinking about doing -”

“- she wants Basil safe. Riding Nuvola in public in a pretty riding habit is a small price to pay.”

“I’ll leave you to sell that to them, Boss. Text me the details, Smoking Bomb; I can yank the Rain-brat on minimum notice, and having it be locational will make my life easier, not harder. I need to be within a certain range to ’port someone. My jump length’s impressive, but I pay for it with the need for proximity to who I’m transporting; I’m still thoroughly impressed with Maria, and her ability to ‘pull’ a target to her.” The Mist vanishes and Cavallone rubs his forehead.

“How the fuck do you support so many bonds?”

“Practice.”

“Che. If you don’t want to answer the question -”

“I’m serious. It’s practice. I was part of Papa’s Harmony from three, if I remember correctly; I fell off one of Ira’s older siblings - my cousin had put me on his back on my own when he wasn’t supposed to - and went Flame Active. Papa drew me into his Flames the way I drew Emiliana in to help me manage being an Active Sky, and I learned that not all bonds had to be Guardian-type ones from him and the other older Skies. It drove Reborn mad; he didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just promote the strongest of each Flame-type to the posts. Unfortunately for me, none of the other Skies could have claimed the lands and the trusts though, even if they could have led the ‘song’, so I had to step up. I don’t enjoy most of it, but needs must.”

“… that’s _very_ different from what I was taught, Cavallone.”

“Yes, well. The Vongola aren’t the be-all and end-all for Sky Flames, Hayato; some of us have had ours a lot longer and learned other tricks along the way that they’ve refused to learn from us.” Cavallone sounds more than a little put upon; he wondered if he’d ended up in conflict with one or more of the older Vongola boys before their deaths. “I’m certainly planning to try and teach Xanxus some of the tricks while Reborn tutors him; he created a strong enough Harmony within the Varia that a Sun, a Rain and a Mist could hold it between them in his absence. He should be able to expand it and anchor it in the Iron Fort if he wants to.”

He stretches and yawns, and Cavallone layers more Sky Flames over him, and he glares sleepily at the blond. “If I didn’t know you were monogamous, I’d be fucking suspicious about how often you knock me out with your Flames, Cavallone.”

“They wouldn’t knock you out if you weren’t a paranoid, exhausted wreck, Hayato.” He scowls and reaches for his Storm but it doesn’t come. “I’ll see if Chrome-chan can put you in Kizuna’s sitting room; their Sky’s starting to slip out past their seal, and the suites are designed to capture and amplify even faint traces of their residents’ Flames. Their rooms are starting to feel very homey indeed -”

“You rang, Boss?” Cavallone facepalms and he giggles.

“Are you and Bono enjoying your movie marathons?”

“What makes you say that, Boss?”

“You both just greeted me with ‘you rang, Boss’, Chrome-chan. Though in your case, I didn’t summon you unless saying your name counts -”

“I ‘listen’ for my name and Kizuna’s in close proximity - and yes, we have. The Addams Family is funnier in English.” She curtsies. “Kizuna’s with Nuvola, Boss. I’ll take the sleepy wildcat up to have a nap. You might want to take advantage of the hime; they’re in an interesting mood.” Cavallone raises an eyebrow and Chrome grins, waggling hers. Mist Flames wrap around him, and before he can protest, he’s in a very Japanese sitting room, being laid on a daybed. “Sleep, Hayato-kun. There are only four people within ten miles who can get in here.”

He waves a middle finger at her, but Cavallone’s right; at first blush, the room feels like the Don, but there’s a thread of the Sky he _really_ wants under it, and it’s incredibly soothing. (And damnit, he wasn’t ready to think about how welcoming _both_ Flames were to him; he wasn’t a Guardian. He wasn’t Guardian _material_. He couldn’t have slipped into such a bond without realising, right? It had to be the faux bond Chrome had formed for them.) Soothing enough that he drifts, sliding into actual sleep.

“Shhh.” Slim fingers slide through his hair, and he registers silk against his cheek and the musky scent of a woman in his nose. “You’re safe, Cloud-kun.” He twitches, and they make an apologetic sound. “I’m sorry. Kyō-nii has me well trained; if I can get close enough - without waking them - a sleeping Cloud is to be gently petted.”

“Not complaining.” The fingers keep combing through his hair. “I think you’ve caught me, hime.”

“Go back to sleep, Hayato-kun.” The fingers keep petting his hair, and he drifts, enjoying the quiet chance to rest. “Let me show you I can be your Sky, please.” The words are murmured, and he whines softly, curling closer to them and wraps his Cloud around them possessively.


	17. A Touch of Gossip - POV Chrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been another time-skip - this chapter is a month after the previous one.

“Chrome-chan? It’s very early, sweetheart.” She makes a small apologetic sound. “Don’t worry; I always forget the time-changes when I travel with anata, too. There’s a seven-hour time difference between Italy and Japan, if I remember correctly.” She does the conversion in her head and facepalms.

“Sorry haha-ue. But I thought you’d be pleased to hear that Tsu-neko-hime is in the _very_ early stages of pregnancy. I caught the flicker when I was undressing her this evening -”

“- how far along are they?”

“If they conceived when I think they did, four weeks, Haha-ue - I had to prod their ovaries into producing eggs. Their body is unusual. But then we knew that.”

“Are they happy with their husband, daughter? Tsuyoshi-itoko will free them if they aren’t, but I’m not sure if I trust them to say that they need their marriage dissolved. They’re rather conflict-averse at times.”

“They’re _nauseatingly_ happy, haha-ue. The two of them couldn’t be better suited to each other. They’re already blending into a single Sky; I can lean into his Flames as easily as I can theirs.” She taps her fingers on the writing desk she’s sat at. “The Cavallone have a very old stone-built villa at the centre of their estate - parts of it are definitely pre-Asuka, and may even be pre-Han - and it has some intriguing properties as a result. The master and mistress suites both act as a concentrator for Sky Flames; I’ve actually had a taste of Tsu-neko-hime’s Flames without being in their head.”

“Good; I will admit to a little anxiety as to whether Reborn-chan’s plan would work. I knew the little Asari-hime wouldn’t thrive as Kyōya’s Sky, even if we could unSeal them, but telling the two of them that was impossible.”

“I’ve met the Sky Reborn-san thought might suit oni-sama, and he’s right. Xanxus is _very_ much the type of Sky I could see Kyōya bowing to, haha-ue. He’d thrive, too; I’ve seen the way Xanxus interacts with his actual elements.” She digs in the desk for paper and an ink brush, intent on occupying her hands. “I’ve seen him with all three of his bonded elements, and the Storm he’s in the progress of wooing; he’s built even stronger bonds than heika-oji-sama has, haha-ue.” 

“Oh my.” Her adopted-mother sounds amused. “That could be entertaining when my silly little cub introduces his new Sky to heika-nii.”

“He built a song that a Rain, a Sun and a Mist could hold between them while frozen. And that kept Viper-oba-sama from suffering from their curse in his absence.”

“And his father tries to say he’s not his?” Kasumi sounds thoroughly amused. “Any of our Skies would be happy to adopt so strong a child and call him their heir; a decade or two to integrate them into their families, and they would be able to carry all but the blood-locked inheritances and even most of those would yield if handed over ‘correctly’. Heika-nii is an exception, but that has to do more with the nation’s imperial/divine fantasy than anything else.”

“Yes, well, heika-oji-sama is heika-oji-sama. Xanxus-sama is like Kyōya-oni-sama but with a Sky Flame.” Her adopted mother giggles. “You laugh. I’ve seen him bite his Rain to ‘death’ for waking him up.”

“Then the two of them settling into a bond will be highly amusing, musume-chan. Go and get some sleep, sweetheart; it sounds like you need it.” She yawns, and Kasumi laughs. “Go. I’m going to indulge in an hour in the onsen as you got me up so early. Get some sleep for both of us.” The call disconnects and she blushes as she looks down at the doodle; shaking her head, she shoves the paper and brush back into the writing desk and slips out of her Sky’s sitting room and down the corridor to her own small suite of rooms. 

(She’d been afraid she’d displaced someone, but Cavallone-sama had only grinned and shaken his head and left Bono to explain how the Family made things work; she’d still blushed furiously to be so easily accepted as _the_ Cavallone Mist, and the way Bono had seemed almost relieved _not_ to have to take the role.)

Sleep comes easily enough for her, especially after a full day emersed in her Sky’s Flames. 

She wakes slowly, the sweet Flames singing in her Skies’ suite - they were clearly in the same bed and enjoying themselves - making her own slow to react and alertness hard to achieve. Not that it matters; she’s already learned that the rhythm of the day in the Villa revolves gently around the Skies in residence, so not much will happen before they’re ready to emerge, unless one of the bonded Guardians overrides the happy Sky-lethargy that everyone is likely suffering from.

She coaxes her Flames into spreading out through the Villa, riding the sleepy, well-fucked Sky Flames to inspect the core of the estate; Enhydra, Emiliana and Basil still asleep, a trio of milk-drunk kittens - the little Rain had regressed since his rescue, but given the way she had, she’s not surprised - and the Flame Active portion of the herd grazing close in; Nuvola and a half-asleep Gokudera-kun between them extending the reach of their Skies’ Flames three or four fold, though she’s fairly sure it’s not deliberate.

There are other people present; staff down in the kitchens, Bono and Romario drinking strong black coffee on one of the patios and Alyessa working with the foals in the gardens (the young horses got distracted and snacked on the roses, which made her giggle; she’d have to experiment with coaxing more to bloom if they enjoyed the taste so much).

She shakes herself and slides out from under the covers. While she has a European-style wardrobe, she feels far more comfortable in her loli and more traditional outfits, and she pulls on the appropriate underthings and wraps herself in a pretty yukata. She wanders out of her suite, padding through the villa’s corridors until she reaches the kitchens; the cooks are amused by her appearance, and willing to indulge her in preparing Kizuna-hime’s favourite breakfast. The head cook actually pulls her into a small office and spreads a set of recipe cards for her to inspect; she works through them with a pencil, noting corrections on them (or, rather tweaks: Eiko-sama had been sending her notes about how to substitute ingredients as a way to connect with her child’s Mist) while the other women experiment with producing a Japanese-style breakfast.

The sated Sky Flames recede, curling back inside their bearers' bodies and she stretches and transports herself and the food up to the dining room nearest to her Sky’s rooms.


	18. Shark-trash - POV Squalo

“Voooiii! If I need to fuck off, you can tell me that, damn it! This place feels like a goddamn brothel at the end of a really good night.” Romario snorts and shakes his head, clearly amused.

“Kizuna’s seal is clearly fracturing under the weight of the Boss’s Flame; this is fairly normal for happy and generous Skies, though, Commander. It only feels sexual because you’ve fucked one of them, I suspect.”

“…’Maro, is that _experience_ talking?” The Mist on the patio with them, previously quiet, sounds mildly scandalised in a very performative way, and he snorts, amused by the interplay.

“Yes, but Giorgio, not Dino, brat-Mist. Squalo here did an excellent job of waggling his ass at our Sky; none of us felt the need to jump on that particular grenade with him so eager to help.”

“Voooiii! Blame Reborn for the start of it.” His cheeks are actually hot, and Xanxus was going to be thoroughly amused when he made his way up to the villa he was stuck in. “And the miser, too. He was the one who dumped me on the Horse post-coup.”

“We can be amused, Squalo. There’s no malice. Some of the reason you can feel their pleasure is the design of the Villa; the core of it is a fairly early Romano-Sicilian villa and built by a Family already wielding Flames. The rest is because if Xanxus hadn’t been successfully defrosted, you could have become the Boss’s Rain. He could probably have forced the point three years ago and dragged you into our set, but he’s got fairly strong ethics, so he didn’t. He was standing by to snatch you up if he had to, though.”

“I’d have fucking gutted him.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You _know_ the only reason he’d have forced the bond would be to keep you alive.” Bono twitches, and Romario’s Flames ripple out and over him, probing something woven into the villa. “And Chrome has decided breakfast is in the ‘Family’ dining room; feel up to sitting across the table from Dino and Kizuna, knowing they’ve been fucking in a fairly subversive way?”

“… _subversive_?”

“I suspect our Donna is having a Tsuna day, rather than their more common Kizuna ones, Bono. And yes, I do know what the Boss in a receptive mood feels like, thanks to the menace with the long hair over there.”

“Voooiii! It was equal-fucking-opportunity!”

“He didn’t share so much once you two settled into a routine, and he certainly didn’t fuck you in his suite, did he?” He shakes his head. “I was the only one who ‘felt’ anything most of the time for the two of you. Reno did occasionally, and so did Alyessa, but anyone else would have had to be in the room, eyeballing you to have noticed. Whereas the two of them are shameless, in love, and doing exactly what we expect of our Don and Donna; we’ve actually had issues with some of the other families over the unwillingness to do arranged marriages and the bride-stealing we’ve always indulged in, but you can imagine how unpleasant for everyone an unwilling or unhappy bride would be, ne?”

“Shit, yeah. Fuck, the idea of everyone having to live with _feeling_ the shitty mess that my uncle’s marriage degenerated into before I put them both out of everyone’s misery so cousin Delphino inherited could inherit -” he shakes himself convulsively. “- and yeah, I’ve feeling brave enough. I want to talk the little fluff-ball into telling me where to find her adoptive father; I need a fight worth the fucking name.”

“Good luck persuading them to tell you where to go, Squalo.” 

“I’ll fucking find them with or without the fluff-ball’s help.”

“Good luck handling the resident pair of Clouds.” Romario sounds far too amused for his sanity. “You won’t get near their father without placating the Emperor’s Cloud, and the Cloud of Japan.”

“Voooiii. Sounds like good clean fun, then.” The Sun pokes them both up through the villa to a small dining room he hasn’t been dragged into before; their murderous Mist’s junior sister is sat in the room, a fairly impressive spread of Japanese breakfast item covering the table. “Voooiii! Has Mukuro made himself known yet? The brat’s back in the Castle and has been told to make an appearance -”

“- no, no he hasn’t. But Bono and Caliban told me some details about his childhood, so I’ll give him space, Squalo-sama. Mine was ‘only’ emotionally abusive, and Haha-ue has done much to help me past that.”

“Voooiii. He’s still avoiding shit. Sanity’s optional in our fucking Castle, but that doesn’t mean that shitty passive-aggressive avoidance is allowed. And it’s fucking hypocritical of him; he’s the one that twisted our crazy little Storm’s arm up his back to force him to deal with his familial shit.” The creepily identical-to-Mukuro Mist bobs her head (fucking seriously, if he didn’t know where their murderous little Mist was - under Belphegor, swearing about, and writhing on, the cock up his ass - he’d think Mukuro was running a con of his own) and then seats the three of them at the low table. 

Before he can serve himself, the two smug adult Skies in residence slip through the door, and he snorts as Dino’s the one who sits down a little carefully. The little fluff-ball does look - and feel - a lot more male than the other couple of times they’ve met, though he wonders if they know what that little eddy in their burgeoning Flames represents? (Dino was doing a fucking fantastic job of feeding them Flames in the way a Sky was supposed to be able to feed them to an exhausted Guardian; he wondered if it was deliberate or just him wanting his wife happy and healthy with his Dying Will?) “I can feel Alyessa’s distracted, Romario; have you seen our Cloud? He should at least be invited to join us if we’re going to have a Family breakfast -”

“Ara, Dino-nii-sama, Gokudera-kun’s asleep in Nuvola’s box with two of the foals and the Duchess’s kittens piled on top of him; Chrome-chan was going to let him sleep and have breakfast waiting for him later.” He snorts. “If Squalo-sama would like to be reintroduced to the Flame Horses and Cats, and introduced to the Boars, Chrome-chan would be _delighted_ to do so. Especially since Squalo-sama wants to fight Tsuyoshi-oji-sama …”

“Chrome, imouto-chan, no attempting to murder guests unless they’ve earned it.” The fluff-ball’s voice is actually deeper; definitely a ‘he’ day from what he understood. “If he wants to fight Tsuyoshi-sama, he wants to fight Tsuyoshi-sama. Perhaps motivating him not to kill would work better, ne?”

“Voooiii! I don’t kill _every_ swordsman I fight!”

“Just most of them, Squalo.”

“For fucking cause. Abusing their apprentices.”

“See, Chrome-chan? Otousan and okaachama’s only apprentice is Takeshi-nii, and he’s cheerfully ridiculous and not at all maltreated. And Squalo knows that he’d ruin our alliance with his Sky, too, right?”

“I do indeed, fluffy-dono. I just want a good fucking fight with a named swordsman.”

“Don’t leave okaachama out, Squalo-san; she’s a Shigure Soen Ryuu adept too, and a named _swordswoman_.” He blinks, remembering the conversation with the wicked Mist sat at the table and the little fluff ball grins at him. “She’ll pout prettily and stab you in the back if you don’t respect her skills _too_.”

“So where has your Clan holed up, fluffy-brat? It’ll be far more discreet if I know where to go -”

“They’re on their ancestral lands, Squalo-kun.”

“Voooiii! That doesn’t fucking help!”

“Namimori, Squalo. It’s a small town on Hokkaido; it’s built at the point where the Asari and Hibari lands meet.”

“Aluade followed Giotto to Japan, and managed to marry an imperial grand-daughter and founded a prominent Cloud line, Squalo-sama; Haha-ue is the imperial Cloud and oni-sama is the Cloud of Japan.” The menace of a Mist - as bad as her brother - wriggles her fingers at him. “Oni-sama is going to object to your presence, Squalo-sama. You’re Cloudy enough to make him feel very territorial.”

“Fucker will just have to deal with me trying to stab him to death.”

“On your head, Squalo. Try not to disappoint my in-laws; I suspect they’re looking forward to sparring with you, and you’ll be no use if you allow my brother-in-law to treat you as a chew toy.” The fluff-ball giggles, cheeks pink, and Dino pulls them into his lap; they stretch up and murmur something in their husband’s ear that has his classmate clearly amused.

“Breakfast and supplements _before_ you return to bed, Tsuna-sama.”

“Supplements -”

“Supplements.”

“Hiiieee! Chrome-chan is _sure_?”

“Voooiii. You’ve got the fucking eddy, fluffy-brat. It’s fucking classic.”

“Boss. Food first.” There’s a set of scowls that make him snort, and the two of them feed each other like the fucking honeymooners they are - he’s not going to point out that there are only three hands visible; it isn’t worth the fucking fight. Chrome appears to agree, given the illusion that coats the pair of them. “That was one way to announce it, Chrome.”

“Tsu-neko-chan doesn’t normally have enough Flames for the eddy to be obvious; they’ve clearly been experimenting this morning.”

“But you’ve had your suspicions …?” Bono’s voice is soft, and the little menace of a Mist tilts her head in acknowledgement. 

“For a fortnight. But it was only a ‘feeling’; I wasn’t sure until I saw the eddy. Also because I knew they’d collapse into a pair of billing and cooing lovebirds when I told them.” He snorts and finishes his breakfast. “Do you want me to transport you up to _your_ Sky, Squalo-sama? I assume that’s why you drove up this morning -”

“That and to ask your little rescue case a few questions.”

“Rescue -”

“Your fluffy-brat’s little brother.”

“Ara. He’s asleep in a platonic pile with his Sky and Mist. I have them under a chastity alteration they suggested. Maybe Squalo-sama could catch them on the way back from flirting with his Sky?”

“Voooiii! I’m taking him documents to review -”

“And Viper-oba-sama could have done that. Squalo-sama’s hoping for _something_.” The bratty little Mist - definitely her brother’s sister sing-songs her last sentence. “Chrome-chan thinks that will be hot to watch, so Chrome-chan will be back later Romario; it’s your turn to herd the ferrets.” There’s a protest from Dino’s Sun, but the world dissolves - far slower than most of the times he’s been transported, but then he realises the Villa’s wards were up and they were sliding carefully through them - and reforms in his Sky’s temporary bedroom. “Have fun, Squalo-sama.”

“Voooiii -” 

“Shut the fuck up, shark-trash. And get your ass over here -” he twitches. “- I want to see if my cock’s working properly.”

“Love you too, shitty-Boss.” Wrath Flames lick over his clothes in a disturbingly hot display of fine Flame control - everything he’d read in his Family’s Archives after murdering his uncle said that Wrath was one of the hardest Flame-types to handle - and a hand snaps out and grabs his braided hair, yanking him into the bed with his half-awake Sky. He finds himself manhandled under his Sky, Xanxus blindly nipping and licking at his shoulder blade and he surrenders, the action easy and natural in a way it had never been for Cavallone - he’d needed to be thrashed hard by the blond Sky to yield - and spreads his legs. 

His Sky pulls lube out from under the pillows, and coats his cock and he whines and claws at the bed as he’s breached with no preparation at all - he can take it, he knows he can; he’s ridden Cavallone with only the blond Sky’s cum to ease the way - and his ass yields slowly as Xanxus forces himself inside it.

“Fuck. Your ass, shark-trash. I like it like this. Just slutty enough I can have it when I want it and tight enough still to be fun.” 

“Voooiii. If you’re going to fuck me, shitty-Boss, shut up and _fuck me_! And equal fucking opportunity - I’m going train your shitty-ass to like cock, too -” fingers push into his mouth, and he sucks on them as his Sky fucks him like he _means_ it, and fuck it feels good to be pressed to the bed by him. Xanxus hammers into him, leaning into his intuition, and he arches and moans, his abused prostate more than happy with the attention being pressed on it.

“Cum, trash. I fell like I’m fucking close and I want to know if your sweet little hole can milk it out of me -” Xanxus’s hand, calloused and scarred slides beneath him to stroke at his cock, and he pants, the sensation harsh and perfect and he does as ordered, whiting out from the intensity. 

His ass feels looser and wetter when he fades back in again, but his Sky’s still hard, and he whines at the back of his throat.

“Don’t worry, trash. I came. You were just hot and tight enough I didn’t soften; I’ve got years of screwing your tight little hole to catch up on.” He makes a sound that’s supposed to be ‘fuck you, Boss, I’m fucking your ass at least as much as you’re fucking mine’ but it comes out more confused, sated exhaustion and he gives up, spreading his legs wider for his Sky, who takes thorough advantage of his compliance. “If Autumn Rain thrashes you, it’s your pick, Shark-trash; surrender your ass to them, the way you surrendered it to Cavallone or cut off the hair. And remember, I fucking love yanking on your hair.”

“Shitty-Boss?”

“I want you motivated to win, shark-trash, or with a hot little story to tell about being ‘taken advantage of’.”

“Voooiii! I’m not your fucking sex toy -” His Sky cuts him off with a vicious thrust that sets his muscles rippling around the cock up his ass.

“Sure about that, shark-trash?” He whines, his muscles trembling. “Are you really sure you won’t bend over for _Autumn Rain_? I remember you ranting about wanting to fight him or fuck him before the ice. All you have to do is tell me about how he uses you as a puppet to fuck his wife -”

“Voooiii. Shitty-cruel-Sky.”

“Tell me that it won’t crank your motor to tell me about your hero fucking you, shark-trash. Cavallone told me _all_ about how you used to waggle your arse at him, and I wanked myself raw.” His Sky snaps his hips, fucking into him with short, brutal strokes; he shoves back into the strokes, bucking and writhing beneath Xanxus. “Given the look on the fluffy-hime’s face, I doubt I was the only one sore in the next morning.” He whines and goes limp. “Did you really learn to flick your hair like a mare just to tease him, trash?”

“Fucking worked, though. He fucked me so hard when I demonstrated it that Lussuria forced me into the infirmary when I limped home.” Xanxus snarls and bites at the back of his neck, jack-hammering into him like a demented rabbit. He melts further, and cums again, a second, dry orgasm, and his Sky follows suit, rolling off him and leaving his ass throbbing viciously at such brutal use. “Fuck, shitty-Boss, they’re going to bend me over and inspect me when I get back this time.”

“Quit fucking whining, trash. You liked it. They’ll want to know they were successful, too.”

“You haven’t fucking told them?”

“They wanted me to take it for a participatory test-drive.”

“Voooiii! Shitty-Boss!”

“Should I have fought you, first, shark-trash? The evidence says that’s what gets you off.”

“Bastard Sky.”

“Apparently. Reborn’s got the family tree and the DNA figured out, and the pervert-doctor-trash looked for anything funky.”

“Funky?”

“The pervert-trash’s words. Given he’s got playing the cuckoo down to a fine art, I believe him when he says no one’s fucked with my DNA. He was Fede’s father, not the shitty old man.”

“So who’s your fucking Vongola connection, shitty-Boss? The old man, or -?”

“The Eighth. Cavallone offered to see what the herds thought of me when he found out; apparently most of her and her wife’s kids ended up very Cavallone or civvie, and he was happy to absorb me into their Flames if I wanted to give up on the dragging the Vongola into the fucking twenty-first century, even though Reborn told him it would be a fucking awful idea.”

“Nah. His intuition was probably poking him; our murderous-Mist’s sister confirmed he’s got the fluffy-hime pregnant this morning. The old man can’t force an annulment.”

“That’s going to be a hysterical relationship to watch.”

“They’re fucking shameless.” His Sky snorts, and rolls back towards him, caging him beneath him on the bed. “I’m fairly sure they forgot that I was there last week; if they weren’t fucking in the hot spring, I’ll eat my sword.”

“I’d rather you swallowed mine.”

“Voooiii. Was that an actual request?”

“Later, trash. I’ll happily force my cock down your throat when you’ve had your fun in Japan.” He makes a small needy sound - entirely unintentionally - and his Sky’s eyes flare brilliantly, his Flames clearly right at the surface. “Trash, if your ass is too sore for a third round, you need to knock me out with your fucking Flames. That sound -”

He reaches between their bodies, and lifts one leg, hooking it over his Sky’s back, allowing him to guide his Sky’s cock back into his throbbing, aching ass. (He was going to regret this. Probably on the Milan to Tokyo legs of the flights.) “- just fuck me, Boss. It feels fucking fantastic, and I’ve been craving it for far too fucking long.”

“Going soft, shark-trash?”

“Just -” he clenches around the cock inside his ass, trying to encourage his Sky to move, goddamn it. “- fuck. It’s like fucking touch starvation, okay? It’s been a decade, shitty-Boss. Cavallone’s kept me alive, but -”

“- ah. At least that means you aren’t going to complain if I pin you down and stick a cock up your arse, are you, Squalo?” His Sky’s voice goes quiet and almost sweet, his teenage Sky grinding into him slow and easy. “I need you to stay, Squalo; I can feel how easily you could slide into Cavallone’s set -” he lunges up and kisses his Sky, all teeth and desperate need before he says anything actually _soppy_. (Fuck it, he was going to drag the fluffy-hime’s Rain back with him, just so his shitty-Sky wouldn’t be paranoid about the issue. He fucking hoped that Chrome was right about that goddamn potential.)

They fuck hard and fast, Xanxus vicious in his hunger for him and his body. He’s equally desperate, his body rippling in eager need for the cock skewering it, until they both collapse in exhausted pleasure. 

(And into sleep. Fuck, it felt good to have his Sky back.)


	19. Shameless Tease - POV Eiko (OC, Takeshi's Mother)

“’keshi-kun?”

“Yes, kaachan?”

“You are _aware_ you have a stalker, musuko-kun?” 

“Maa, maa. It feels like Tsu-neko-chan likes him -”

“- that doesn’t make him _safe_ , silly boy. Go give your father Kintoki-sama and tell him the Sword Emperor’s come to play.” She resists the urge to facepalm and checks that her own sword will draw easily, just in case. “Shoo. And we’ll have another discussion about Tsu-neko-chan’s tendency to acquire dangerous ‘pets’ later.” Her son. Her nephew. The wild cats now living on Asari land. Apparently some - or possibly all - of the Varia. 

She watches her son weave through the restaurant and slide into the kitchen in the window-reflection (she’d angled the lights by hand to ensure she could monitor the space behind her) before working her Mist Flames into the wider Hibari territory that protected Namimori proper; her nephew would just have to deal with his inclination to have conniptions when she used it. She had enough Hibari blood on the distaff side that it was hers, too. 

The Sword Emperor was both very, very obvious and almost invisible simultaneously; it was startling and explained a lot about his success as an assassin. If the rumours were accurate, he was well into three figures at this point. (In fairness, she’d refined her senses on a barely latent child Rain from the Asari line; Takeshi’s liking for maguro had been an expensive training exercise. Mischief and bottled Rain had a distinct sensory ‘taste’.)

“You’re lucky Kyō-tan is at the palace with his mother, Squ-chan.” She lets her Flames carry her words to the Sword Emperor and watches as he startles like a spooked cat.

“Voooiii! Is that you Hanagumori no Tsubame?”

“I’m honoured, oh Sword Emperor. Are you here for the sushi, like your colleagues, carrying a message for my adopted daughter, or for something a little more _fun_?”

“… all three?” The quiet words take a moment to register. “Your daughter is a _menace_ , Hanagumori no Tsubame, even without her Flames.” Her lips curl in amusement. “I’m assuming that’s your fault?”

“Some of it. Come indoors, Squalo, where we can all see you; if you insist on lurking like a common foot soldier, I’ll bring up the town ‘grid’ and see how well you can dance now you’re of age -” the Flames brighten and deepen and shift closer, until her eyes catch movement in one of the alleyways, and there’s a flash of a blade, an elegant salute that’s highly flattering. “There’s space at the bar; I would prefer it if you left your blades at the door.”

“Voooiii. That won’t work -” his hand shifts from metallic hand to sword and back again. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he scowls. She can feel the way the blade works - the creatrix had obviously seen Kintoki-sama or one of his siblings - and carefully stuns the transformation. “- fuck. How do you do that?”

“I’ll teach you how later. You can force past the block if you feel sufficiently under threat, Squalo; it’s just to stop you from being a brat.”

“Voooiii! Just because I was an insufferable fifteen year old -”

“- nah, I was used to my Hibari cousins; you were fucking adorable. I was just taken _and_ fresh off killing a lot of people to keep my son safe, so hitting on me wasn’t your best move.”

“Voooiii. Speaking of your sword-brat -”

“- if Tsu-chan’s settled and pregnant, he’s met our other requirements. He’s used to being his cousin’s chew toy, so will likely follow you around like a puppy looking for sparring time, but you may not recruit him to the Varia. He’s got his father’s -” she waves her hands, frustrated, looking for the right phrase, “- complete lack of concern about decapitating people who are mildly annoying. It’s not sociopathy, but.”

“His body count’ll match mine, fast, and there’s no guarantee he’ll keep it to contracts and kiddie-fiddlers.”

“Yes. Exactly.” She loved her menfolk, but she was entirely realistic about their mental disconnects. “Tsu-chan knows how to manage him and his cousin; she’s watched me do it for years.” 

“I was planning to tie the brat up and present him to his sister anyway; my Sky needs to see Cavallone has a Rain so he stops twitching. He’s still trying to decide what he thinks of how I kept myself sane while he was frozen.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Long fucking story.”

“Why would taking Takeshi back solve _that_ problem?” Squalo grins and allows himself to be herded into the restaurant proper.

“The fluffy-hime and Cavallone are one Sky already. Between him being her Rain even before she had any useable Flames and being a swordsman, he’ll slip right into the senior Rain slot in the Cavallone song, and then my shitty-Boss will both stop expecting a poaching attempt and stop working out his paranoia on my ass.” The Sword Emperor blinks. “Shitty Lightning. I need you to teach our Lightnings that trick; you’d fit right into the Cavallone yourself.” 

She smiles at the Rain, expression shark-like. “They already know it. I learned it from one of them.” 

The Sword Emperor makes a strangled sound, and she snickers and pokes him up onto one of the free stools, and then takes the one next to him. “You have excellent timing, Squalo.” Her husband has Kintoki-sama slung across his back, and their son has slipped upstairs into their private quarters. “Six hours earlier and our nephew would have intercepted you and bitten you to death; we’d have had to wait to play with you for several days unless Touma showed up like the stray cat he is.”

“Nephew -”

“Kyō-tan. The Cloud of Japan. Reborn thinks he’ll make your Sky a fantastic if toothy Cloud.”

“Fluffy-chan and her Mist both make him sound like he’ll fit right in.”

“That nickname is adorable.”

“The shitty-Boss decided that was their Name. Their hair really is fucking fluffy; it adds about six inches to their height - it’s almost as over-the-top as the Bovino’s.” 

Her husband places plates and hashi in front of both of them, and she takes her portion, amused by what he’s served her. Squid sashimi was Tsuyoshi being very, very blatant. Especially since it was still moving in a suggestive fashion. “Voooiii -”

“Don’t worry, you’ve got something else. He’s being a tease.” She bites one of the pieces of sashimi. “Tonight’s going to be fun for mw come what may, though.” She leaves out that the sashimi on the younger Rain’s plate is blow-fish; her husband _definitely_ had plans. But those could wait. “So have you ever taken an apprentice? Do the Varia swordsmen or the Superbi ones have a standardised contract? You’re notorious for killing adepts who use their apprentices as toys -”

“Voooiii! Are you about to suggest I take your boy as an apprentice?!”

“More, um, non-sexual sparring partner. He’s competent -”

“- more than competent, koibito; he’s starting to create new forms -”

“- but because we’ve taught him not to indulge certain temptations -”

“- he doesn’t have our edges. It’s kept his classmates alive, -”

“- but even Kyōya hasn’t managed to motivate him, though he’s bitten him into lethal competence with both his Flames.” She grins. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Voooiii! And you want to send him to Italy?!”

“Oh, he’ll defend Tsu-neko _lethally_ , and worship at her baby belly, he just -” she waves her hands frustrated. “You can try fighting him later when we’ve both had a chance to chew on you, Squalo. Isn’t feeding one’s young half-dead prey traditional?”

“Voooiii, who says I’ll be half-dead?”

“You think _either_ of us is going to allow you to win, Sword Emperor?” He scowls at her.

“Food first; I’m waiting for my apprentice to arrive and take over the restaurant. Once he has, we can move to the dojo, koibito. Stop teasing our guest and finish your squid; you know it’s best _fresh_.”

“Anata, you’re dreadful.”

“And you love me for it.” He pours her a bowl of tea, too, and she almost facepalms when she catches the scent; she gets her revenge by swallowing a piece of her sashimi whole, making her husband’s cheeks heat, and she watches him press against his work counter in a very familiar way. “You might need to do something about that before sparring with a guest, husband; he might get the wrong idea.”

“Voooiii. Or the right one apparently. The shitty-Boss is going to laugh hysterically; I think he’s showing signs of the Vongola Hyper Intuition finally.”

“Oh?” He waves his hashi - her evil husband had given him fugu, and he’d just picked a slice up - and uses them to point at her squid. “Ah. Yes, Tsu-neko woke it in a similar way. They made Kyōya blush.”

“Sensei?”

“Ah, Hiro-kun. I need you to take over for the rest of the evening; Eiko-chan’s closed the doors, so there’ll be no more guests coming in. Everyone’s a regular; practice your sashimi and your nigiri making. I’ll ask them how you did in the morning.”

“But -”

“It’s Ukiyo related, Hiro-kun. We’ll be in the dojo.” She watches Hiro’s eyes flick to the swords both she and her husband were wearing, and to Squalo, and then back to her husband. Her husband’s apprentice’s eyes go wide, and she grins, letting him make his own assumptions. She finishes her sashimi, and stands up, stretching and starts feeding her Flames slowly into her own blade, a much younger sibling to Kintoki-sama; he needed the boost to be useful for Shigure Soen Ryuu, unlike the Clan’s senior sword. Tsuyoshi was getting the hang of using one of the newer blades, but for an opponent like Squalo, he needed to borrow Kintoki-sama back from his son.

She herds Squalo through the concealed door into the Family quarters, and out through the backdoor, Tsuyoshi following them both - she can feel him waking Kintoki-sama - and it makes her want to purr; a good fight was the best sort of aphrodisiac. And Superbi Squalo, the Sword Emperor, would offer them a _very_ good fight.


	20. Takeshi Delivery! - POV Kizuna/Tsuna

“Voooiii! I brought you and your ridiculous husband a new chew toy, fluffy-chan.” 

“I thought you enjoyed the results of the discussion of your virtues, Squ-chan? I certainly did. And kun, please today. I’m having a very Tsuna day; I’m beginning to suspect if Shamal probed my passenger, he’d find they’re male.” Squalo drops a neatly tied blanket roll next to him, and he facepalms at the parallel. “I thought anata had apologised for that stunt, Squalo?”

“Voooiii! He did. But your over-eager nii-san tried to make me spar with him somewhere over central Asia because he was antsy and bored. So I knocked him out and tied him up, and well, it was too good to pass up.” He shakes his head and unclips the scissors from his chatelaine; the blades were physically tiny but suspiciously useful. (Given the entire thing was made of Flame-conductive silver, and echoed with Sky Flames - and _very_ occasionally gave excellent advice - it had to be as close to sapient as Kintoki-sama, and at least as adaptable.) They cut through the zip ties far too easily. “And your adoptive parents are as insane as your husband and my Sky.”

“Oh?”

“They dragged me into their dojo.” He snickers. “After he fed her _squid_ sashimi. I thought the Japanese were _discreet_ about that shit.”

“If you think they’re unsubtle, you should see oba-sama when she and heika-oji-san are in Hibari compound. Otousan’s restaurant has all sorts of subtle privacy screening, too; they were being performative for you.” He shoves the blanket open and pokes her adoptive brother in the ribs, trying to get a feel for how he’d been knocked out. (Between the chatelaine, the villa and his _very_ indulgent husband, they finally had Flames to play with! There were lots of theoretical applications that heika-oji-san had taught them, and it had been fun to experiment - though very weird to have to ask their anata for a ‘recharge’! Even if the process was _very_ enjoyable.) 

“Voooiii. If you want him awake, just ask, princess.” He glares at his husband’s oldest non-related friend for a moment, Flames curling, and the swordsman flinches. “Shit, you might not have made such a bad regnant Donna for the Vongola, brat. You haven’t even cracked the fucking Seal yet, and you’ve got the old Donna’s glare down pat.”

He laughs and then shakes his head. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Squalo. Save the femme-shit for when I’m Kizuna, and I’ll keep ’Keshi-nii on a leash. I get enough misgendering from non-Flame Users; don’t make me start using the techniques from heika-oji-san’s stories about how to be a _pacifying_ Sky, please. He and I agree they’re creepy.” The Rain holds his hands up in a ‘I surrender, I’ll stop’ pose, and he lets it go, tugging the mild paralytic out of his brother’s system gently, bouncing happily when it works, and her nii-san opens his eyes.

“Maa, maa, senpai. You could have just told me to stop.”

“I did, brat. Your Sky’s sat next to you; be a menace at them.” Takeshi blinks, and he squeaks as he’s suddenly in his nii-san’s lap, being ruthlessly snuggled. He makes a rude gesture at the older Rain, who snorts and leaves them to their reunion.

“Keshi?”

“Don’t make me stay behind again, please? Heika-oji-san shouted at everyone when he realised why I was so low.” Her usually eloquent nii-san waves his hands helplessly. “He thinks I’ve been your Rain _Guardian_ since we were in pre-school. Between the tiny bit of Sky you probably produced even under the Seal and Kyōya’s tendency to nap with us, I was managing it with skin contact and being clingy, but then you went away-away -”

“Idiot. We’re working on the Seal. And anata is very willing to share and very much a Cloudy-Sky, so you’re not going to need to go without, onii-san.” He unfurls a tiny thread from the Flames he was still getting used to having access to, and wraps it around his onii-Rain, and Takeshi _melts_ under him. It’s slightly disturbing; it’s the same way his husband melts when he makes him submit, but he doesn’t flinch, because he can feel Takeshi’s Flames stilling into obedient calm the way Hayato’s had when he’d managed to take on the artificial bond. “You’re going to have to get used to having two Skies, onii-san; anata and I are one Flame.” Takeshi whines, and he pets him gently. “Don’t worry. Now you’re here, we’ve got a whole set, and the Cavallone Harmony is like heika-oji-san’s, ’Keshi. It’s old and beautiful, and there are so many singers.”

He tugs on his bonds to their senior Guardians and his husband gently and feels their curiosity; he catches up a little bit of his onii-san’s Flames and shows it off. He squeaks when Chrome abruptly materialises, fitting herself to Takeshi’s side, and catching his legs up to cover her lap. “We should have just smuggled you to Italy anyway, itoko-kun.”

“Maa, maa. I really did need the polishing chichi-ue and haha-ue have been providing since the two of you flew out; I watched them fight with Squalo-senpai until haha-ue used the dojo-workings to stop me peeping. The three of them are _so_ much prettier when they fight than I am. Senpai’s face, when haha-ue flipped out of a trap, was hysterical.” 

Chrome facepalms. “Did oba-san _change_ before she joined in, or is she still insisting on fighting in kimono, itoko?”

“She considers fighting in her kimono motivation to avoid Kintoki-sama’s ‘bite’, Chrome-chan. She repairs them herself; the worse she does, the more - in her words - tedious sewing she has to do.” 

“Koibito?”

“Squalo brought us a present. Husband meet our Rain; Takeshi, Dino. And yes, his Japanese is excellent, Takeshi, but that’s not an excuse to avoid learning Sicilian. I’m sure if we can get our Cloud out from under the pile of barn cats, he might be willing to teach you?”

“Otouto, you weren’t joking about already being one Sky.” He smiles. “The taiyō no Arcobaleno was clearly understating your compatibility.”

His husband sits down next to them and tugs him shamelessly onto his lap, a hand slipping under his t-shirt to press against where their little star was growing, and he swats at him gently. Especially since there was a clear interest in round three of the day right under his ass, poking him gently. “Reborn was my tutor and guard while I restructured the Family. I love my father, don’t get me wrong, but our song - I like your word for it, koibito - was close to breaking, and he ignored it. I couldn’t smooth out the Harmony, establish myself as Conte Cavallone well enough to make it more than a courtesy title _and_ ward off some of the more predatory Families. He had plenty of opportunities to both do the sort of discreet murder that amuses him and to get a taste for my Flames.”

“He did bully you dreadfully, too, anata. At least according to Reno.”

“Reno’s biased, koibito; he got hit in the cross-fire of some of his antics.”

“He’s allowed to be. He got shot in the head by a Dying Will Bullet you ducked. He’s lucky to be alive.” He pokes his husband gently. “I know you tolerate him because he hasn’t violated the contract, but your father had some major blind spots, and there are loopholes big enough to drive a horse and cart through in that document.”

His husband kisses his forehead gently. “And I’ve survived, the family’s thrived, and he brought you to me on a silver platter. There’s a lot I can forgive for that.”

“Incorrigible.”

“Ara, Takeshi-itoko, I think we should leave them to their billing and cooing; why don’t I take you to meet our Clouds? I know you’re used to Kyōya napping in close proximity -” the shift of their Mist’s Flames is unsubtle, especially as it results in he and Dino toppling sideways on the couch.

“Hiiieee!” Dino pins him to the sofa and kisses him, deep and hungry and very very clear about how his husband thought the next hour or three should be spent.

“So can we try something new, koibito?”

“New?”

“I want to try something as Tsuna, rather than Kizuna, koibito -”


	21. Flirtation - POV Takeshi

“Chrome-chan -”

“- they’re worse than ojisan and obasan when they’ve been sparring; you’ll learn to read their Flames, or walk in on them enjoying their marital duties, Takeshi-itoko.”

“Maa, maa. Our little Tsu-neko wouldn’t be so shameless -”

“Tsuna-neko conceived in a loosebox in the main Villa stable, itoko. The only thing that stopped them being walked in on was Nuvola, her mare.” His brain screeches to a halt, and Chrome-chan laughs. “Yeah. They’re as bad as your parents and haha-ue. Which, given their examples -”

She walks over and lifts the latch on one of the looseboxes - why had she brought him to the stable? - and opens the half door. There’s a snort and a horse, clearly Flame Active - not that he’s ever met one, but that’s not a standard coat colour, he knows that much - sticks her head out of the box.

“Takeshi, Nuvola; Nuvola, Takeshi. She’s a member of the Flame Active herd that roam the Cavallone lands, and Tsu-neko’s personal mount; Alyessa rides with our Skies - she’s our Lightning - but Nuvola and Ira are just as intelligent and protective. Cavallone Skies apparently don’t die in the saddle, even when there’s open warfare raging across Sicily.” He raises an eyebrow and offers his hand for the mare, who allows him to rub her nose.

“You’re a beautiful mare; have you been looking after my imouto-chan for me?” She investigates his pockets, making him laugh, and Chrome hands him a horse-cookie to feed the prissy Cloud. “Here. I promise there’s nothing better in my pockets.” The mare hmphs and snaffles the cookie, and steps out of the way, exposing the inside of the loosebox. Sprawled in a heap of hay is a slim, silver-haired teen - his age, maybe? - clearly asleep with two foals and a pile of teenage cats.

He takes a step closer, and the sleeping Flames flicker in what - with hindsight - he realises is a warning, and then Kintoki-sama’s in his hand, and he’s hard-pressed to keep the knives in the Cloud’s hands out of his gut. (Which is hotter than it should be. Much hotter. Okay, maybe he finally understood haha-ue and chichi-ue’s dojo thing?)

“Ugh. Boys. There are actual spaces for indulging in any tendencies towards testosterone poisoning; this isn’t one of them.” Mist Flames curl around him and yank him back and away from his prey. “You’re _both_ Guardians. To the same Skies. You can try and kill each other in the training rooms, where no-one’ll actually die, and I won’t have to explain why we’re short a Guardian to Tsu-neko and Dino-sama.”

“Chrome -” the Cloud whines in duet with him, but his little cousin seems to have put some steel in her backbone in the three months she’s been in Italy. 

“No. You could have hurt one of the foals, too. Neither of them are Flame Active yet, nor are the kittens -” he whines, and Chrome squeezes her Flames around them both and shifts them out of the stable-block. “- Takeshi, give me the occupant of your pocket before you start fighting.”

“My pocket -”

“Your pocket. There’s something alive in it; they’re doing a Moretti.”

“A Moretti?”

“He’s a very annoying intelligence officer from Tsu-neko’s _birth_ family and a reason to indulge in your tendency towards decapitation, itoko; he fakes being dead by deactivating his nervous system for a few hours. His Flames let him survive and restart everything.” He digs in his pockets, confused, and pulls a tiny stuffed lynx cub out of a thigh pocket. He’d be willing to swear that he hadn’t put it in there. He hands it to Chrome, who twists her Flames in a peculiar way and then squeaks as she’s suddenly presented with twenty-plus pound of wild-cat. 

“Oops? I probably shouldn’t have smuggled her into the country even accidentally -”

“Che. That’s a fucking _lynx_ cub!”

“Yeah. Looks like one of the latest litter? They’re Tsu-neko’s fault; she brought a teenage lynx home injured and nursed her back to normal, and she turned out to have Flames, and some of her cubs do, too.” The Cloud looks scandalised. “She’ll cuddle with Chrome-chan while we fight. You do still want to fight, right? I was enjoying myself a _lot_. I think I finally understand my parents’ dojo thing -” 

“Dojo thing? And what the fuck is up with your sword? It shouldn’t have been able to resist my Storm -”

“They _really_ enjoy sparring with each other. And Kintoki-sama’s a Muramasa blade and sapient, too. He’s got his own Dying Will; it makes him resistant to all sorts of things. I can get haha-ue to send me one of the younger blades for sparring? Kintoki-sama’s definitely a cheat code -”

“Che. I can deal with your fucking cheat code, sword-freak.”

“Winner tops?”

“I’m going to take the cub and introduce her to Duchess and leave you two to flirt.” Chrome seems amused, the cub sprawled over her shoulders. “I doubt _they_ will need to fight each other to settle their respective places in the cat-archy.”

“You’ve gotten vicious, Chrome-chan.”

“Three months with Tsu-neko to guard by myself did that. And having a Sky to lean into, like haha-ue has heika-ji-san, helps, too.” She sounds smug, and the cub purrs happily. “Have fun boys, and do stay safe - there’s stuff in the first aid cabinet if you need it.”

“Chrome -” She vanishes, and he whines at the back of his throat. 

“Stay safe?”

“… she’s used to my parents. And her mother and her mother’s Sky.”

“You’re going to need to explain more eloquently, sword-freak.”

“Maa, maa. You put your finger on it. We’re all sword freaks; the perils of being a samurai clan. People fighting us is _hot_.” The Storm-Cloud stares at him, bemused. “You were holding me and Kintoki-sama off with two ‘normal’ knives; it was _amazing_.” 

“… freak.”

“So you _don’t_ want to fight me?”

“I didn’t say _that_. But this is just a fight, sword-freak.”

“Uh-huh. Your Flames say otherwise, Cloud-san.”

“Hayato. If Chrome’s right and we’re Guardians to the same Sky, my _use_ name is Hayato.” 

“Use name?” He bounces on his toes, feeling Kintoki-sama’s Flames stir playfully; the sword would shift before he made contact with his sparring partner, leaving them bruised rather than sliced up. (He’d see his parents use that trick with some of the younger blades when they wanted to have fun for longer, and Kintoki-sama had sulked but learned the trick.)

“I don’t like my ‘legal’ one, and if we’re sharing a Sky, then you should call me something other than Smoking Bomb most of the time -” 

“You’re _Named?!_ ” Kintoki-sama hums excitedly. “Haha-ue and chichi-ue and oba-sama are Named, as is Chrome, but Kyōya and I aren’t.”

“You’re the only one of us who isn’t, though Reno’s is mostly humorous. The Family’s Mists have been fluttering around Chrome-chan since she arrived, trying to tempt her into their beds. It’s amusing; I think it’s why Bono was happy to hand off to her. He isn’t a Killing Mist, and corralling the ones that are is hard work if you don’t think the way they do.” He whines, and the Cloud lets a blade and - he blinks, confused - a stick of dynamite slide into his hand.

“Maa, maa -”

“Where did you think the name came from? Don’t worry, they probably aren’t lethal, especially if you continue to be so damn fast with that sword.” He raises an eyebrow. “I recognise the sword now. I thought Squalo felt hyper when he drifted through the territory; did he have fun with Autumn Rain?”

“And with haha-ue, as well. They were sparring enthusiastically when I, uh, went to bed.” The Cloud spins his stick of dynamite casually, clearly amused. “Is he fun to fight? He wouldn’t spar with me.”

“Fucking lethal. He’s the senior assassin in the Varia and has been for a decade. Your parents are freaking demons if they could beat him; everyone knows that Cavallone and him having been fighting so fucking long they know each other’s moves perfectly, so our Don isn’t a good gauge of his technical competence.” He flexes his wrists and starts to move, Flames flowing cleanly and rousing Kintoki-sama’s to the point where he can ‘hear’ the blade, and Hayato responds, shifting his feet, and he winces and dives sideways as the stick of dynamite lights itself, and the Cloud laughs and dives in close, swiping at him with his long knife.

He flips backwards, a combination of his haha-ue’s training in gymnastics and his desire to show off to the Cloud (he always wanted to impress Kyōya) and immediately regrets it as he lands on a stick of dynamite and has to kick it away, dumping Rain Flames through his foot to force it inert. He sweeps through Samidare, only to be caught by the innocent long knife in the Cloud’s hand, and a stick of dynamite shoved in his pocket. He freezes that, leaving him with an ice block numbing his hip, and slides into Sakamaku Ame to give himself time to remove it.

Worryingly, the Cloud gives him the time, not pressing him back into combat (he’s not sure whether Hayato prefers close combat or long-range stuff) until he slides out of the defensive form, and then there’s a smile, and he’s dealing with the incredible speed of a Cloud - it’s only training with Kyōya that keeps his intestines in his belly, and his cock twitches in _definite_ interest. He wills it to behave; too much risk of it being amputated if the Cloud he’s fighting takes it as an insult rather than compliment.

Utsushi Ame comes easily, and he knows he’ll regret retaking the offensive, especially since he’s beginning to get a feel for the tricksy Cloud in the training room with him. The explosives seem to genuinely be more than ‘just’ a party trick, and he’s not quite sure how to counter them other than by pumping huge amounts of Rain into the dojo; prohibitive amounts given that unlike his father, he doesn’t have any Cloud - he facepalms. He has a Sky. He has a _Cloudy_ Sky. If he exhausts himself, he’ll just need a nap with his head in Tsu-neko or Dino-dono’s lap. And didn’t Chrome say they couldn’t kill each other in here?

He dodges Hayato’s bombs and swipes, and stokes his Flames up, building them up and up and up until he can feel every hair standing on end, and the Cloud’s looking at him like he’s crazy. He grins, and launches himself into the hybrid form he’d created - his parents had different eighth forms; his chichi-ue had created his eighth to save his friend, but his haha-ue had created hers to ‘defeat’ - said with a wink he hadn’t understood at 12 - his chichi-ue. (He’d blushed when he put the pieces together and realised what she’d meant.) He drives through Hayato’s defences, slamming Kintoki-sama’s hilt into his gut and dumping the Flames into the room to force any explosives into an inert state.

Except they detonate in dizzying spirals and he shivers in sudden and insistent exhaustion. Shigure Kintoki seems to laugh in his hand, stubbornly shinai shaped, and he collapses onto the training room floor, the strength fading out of every muscle and the corner of his vision going grey. He can feel the bright star of Hayato’s Flames - and oh, that’s where he screwed up - approach and nudge Kintoki-sama away from him. He should tell Hayato than he can summon the blade, but he can’t make his brain shape the words correctly.

“That was a stupid trick. Gonna stay on the floor and behave if I give you a boost?”

“Behave -?” He slurs the word, and Hayato growls subvocally and then lifts him onto his shoulder.

“Idiot Rain. I think our Skies are fucking. Again. Or possibly _still_. They’re so ridiculously besotted it’s painful. So we’ll have to see if Duchess or Stella is willing to fix your stupidity. Or Emiliana. But the twelve-year-old with the Rain who can kick my ass might be a bit embarrassing.” He makes a curious sound. “Basil was trained _specifically_ to counter the Sword Emperor. That was one of his two functions before he got himself kidnapped.”

“Huh. He might be fun to fight, too -”

“Freak.” The word’s actually affectionate. “Not in the same way you’re trying to fight with me, right?”

“Nah. You make it sound like he’s claimed. It’s only fun when everyone’s okay with it. Like chichi-ue and haha-ue with senpai in the dojo.” The Cloud’s Flames flicker. “Don’t worry, senpai’s taken, and poaching from my parents would be bleurgh. But I bet he has cousins who he’s taught to fight …” he’s teasing Hayato, but it’s far too much fun. And a younger femme Squalo would be hot to fight, too.


	22. Dinner Party/Scheming - POV Emiliana (Original Cavallone Character)

“You look _healthier_ , brat.” She blinks and leans around Basil to see who Shamal’s talking to. “Your gut still behaving, or do I get to use you _and_ your Donna as training opportunities for my new apprentice?” 

She spots Hayato just before he starts to speak. “Che. If you want to use me as a glove puppet, again, I need a fucking drink, and the princess isn’t watching. If you’re going to play nice and fake the MRI, we can talk.” A tall Rain limps into the room, looking more than a little beaten up, and Donna Kizuna’s Flames flare and wrap around the older teenager.

“You look well-chewed, Takeshi. Was it at least a _consensual_ chewing?”

“Maa, maa. At least as much as when Kyōya treats me as a chew-toy?” She giggles, and nudges her own Rain, who looks up from his manga. 

“Do you recognise him, Basil? He’s definitely Kizuna’s Rain, and the new senior Rain in the Family -”

“- he’s an Asari. Not old enough to be Autumn Rain, but definitely from the main-line. He looks _just_ like the pictures of Ugetsu.” Her Rain murmurs the response. “He’s of an age with Kizuna; maybe he’s her adopted brother?”

“He’s carrying Shigure Kintoki, so make that a ‘definitely’; that’s Autumn Rain’s sword.”

“Hydra?”

“Zio Squalo is a menace. I know _all_ the major swords. He gets a bit obsessive.” 

“A _bit_ -” Basil’s voice is decidedly amused, “- is an understatement. It made my training easier, though? I only had a single weapon to counter; I was fairly confident I could at least get away from him, but if he had any inclination to use traps or use mid-range weapons it would have been a different matter.” 

A flicker of Flames draws her attention back to the head of the table - she liked her Don’s tendency to use quiet non-verbal signals; she hated it when people shouted - and Dino grins, and Chrome twitches her fingers rather performatively. It takes her a moment to unpack what the Mist had done, and Enhydra bounces distractingly in the corner of her vision. (She was bouncing, too. Maybe they needed to ask for another shopping trip? She was getting bigger in the bust, as well.) “Chrome-chan is _awesome_. I wonder if she’d be willing to teach me how to do that?”

“She’s told you herself; she likes teaching, Hydra. You are supposed to be working on ‘jumping’ though, not getting distracted by shiny new tricks.” Though getting distracted by being served Japanese so dramatically is understandable. It certainly distracted her right up to the point where her Mist started bouncing. Hypnotically. She shakes her head, trying to put the thought of Enhydra’s bounciness safely back in a box that would let her think of what else was going on in the room.

“Emiliana, are you ready to go back to school?” She twitches and shakes her head, and her Don sighs. “You do need to go back, sweetheart. I didn’t like being separated from ’Maro when I was at school, but you need official qualifications to make what we discussed happen, and Basil needs to stay safely hidden until Xanxus takes over.”

“Then why can’t he just take over already!” Shamal pinches the bridge of his nose, and her Don’s eyes flick to the Misty medic.

“If you’ll accept a temporary binding, we can explain, Emi, but otherwise you just have to trust us.” She makes a small whining sound at the back of her throat; she hated those bindings when they’d be demonstrated to her. The feeling of swallowing your tongue while you simultaneously babbled about something weird like the flower in the window was unpleasant. But that was only what happened when you tried to talk about the thing it protected, and Basil was bouncing like Enhydra now, genuinely curious.

“As long as I can babble about the cats if someone pushes the topic? Koneko-chan and her new playmate are cute, and it’s more me than a two-hour dissertation on a poinsettia, Dino -”

“That was a test binding, Emi; the real ones are more subtle. It was so you knew what one felt like in case someone tried to use one on you nonconsensually.” She blinks, following the chain of thought to the logical end and shuddering at what she finds there. “Exactly.”

“That’s creepy and I hadn’t even thought about that. I was _seven_.”

“And I’d prefer we taught it even earlier, Emi. Basil, when was the first time someone tried that trick on you?”

“Bouche Croquant. I was four and ‘father’ dragged me into a meeting. He didn’t trust I’d stay quiet; Nonna removed it promptly but it still made me associate him with an obsessive need for crayons for six months.” Her Rain grins. “At least Nonna explained how to break one after that, so it was just humorous. If you want disturbing, you should probably ask Chrome-chan’s evil older brother for his youngest experience of the tongue-tie trick. He was one of the Estraneo kids that were allowed ‘out’ before they were made persona non grata.”

“Okay, moving on from that. Chrome? Can you help Enhydra to place it? On all three of them, unless - Basil, have you still got a memory-trap, courtesy of Lal?”

“I have, sir.” 

“Then just the girls. Takeshi?”

“Maa, maa. Haha-ue taught me a Lightning trick to make sure I could keep secrets.”

“… teach me?” 

“I’ll check with haha-ue, Alyessa-san. You are Alyessa, right? Chrome said that was our senior Lightning’s name -”

“You pegged me correctly. And Kizuna’s right, you do look well-chewed; I’m impressed, Hayato. Normally you’re too chill to give anyone a fight, even if they ask for it.”

“Okay, who are you brat, and what did you do with my nephew? Since when were you _chill_?”

“Since I had two Skies and a pair of baby ones that seem to think I’m a daybed?”

“I suspect it’ll be a trio soon, Hayato. The cub is curled up with Koneko at the moment.” Their Cloud facepalms, and she giggles. “If they were different sexes, I’d be worried about kittens? cubs? cubens? But I suspect they’ll just be cuddly.”

“Takeshi -” their Donna’s voice sounds low? Was it a Tsuna day? It sounded like it might be. “- did one of the lynx come with you, and if so how did they get through customs?”

“Maa, maa. I think Haha-ue thought you needed company?”

“Think or know?”

“He didn’t even realise he had a passenger, itoko-chan. And it didn’t _feel_ like oba-san. The Flames felt more like oni-sama’s; maybe he’s been working with Viper-sama on his Mist again?” 

“Which of the cubs was it, Chrome-chan?”

“Silvery, an electric Sky, I think. Female, judging by the way they climbed me without sticking their dick in my face.” Their Donna giggles. “I’m glad you think it’s funny. One of your drop cats did manage to demonstrate it was unmistakeably male for me just before we flew, Tsu-neko.”

“I’m sorry?” Even she sees Chrome’s sceptical eyebrow lift. “And that sounds like Elektra. At least she’s old enough to be on her own? She’s from last year’s second litter; I bottle-fed some of them because their momma was exhausted. Her broken leg healed but a bit wrong and two litters in one year was too much.”

“And if everyone has an appropriate memory trap, other than the girls -“

“- on it Boss.” She giggles again. Chrome-chan had been getting progressively snarkier as she relaxed into being their Don and Donna’s Mist and it was hysterical. (Basil’s sense of humour was almost as dry, but her Rain was in therapy and trying to figure out normal-ish. Whether his sense of humour changed as he dealt with his father’s bullshit was up for debate.) “Relax for me Enhydra.” She twitches as Chrome steps across the room and touches her Mist’s shoulder. Her own Flames roil unhappily at the violation of her territory but Dino’s steady her control for her gently, and Enhydra’s calm and compliant with whatever it is that Chrome’s showing her. (And she wouldn’t wind up the Mist; not after she killed someone to protect her and Enhydra. Dokuzakura’s competency was hot and scary.) 

“She’s got a light hand, Emi. And I know how to tweak it.” Her Mist’s voice is careful and reassuring, and she doesn’t whine when her Don’s Mist presses her Flames gently against her temples. She still has to fight herself not to resist the illusion settling into her brain.

“Let that settle, Emi, breathe into it. It’ll feel less intrusive when your Flames adjust to its presence.” She shivers and whines, but doesn’t try to fight it, and Chrome’s right; it doesn’t feel too bad once it’s settled.

“Chrome?”

“Everyone’s safe, Boss.” Kizuna leans up and murmurs something in her Don’s ear, and Dino smiles. 

“Xanxus can’t _just_ take over. At least not yet; he’s still healing from what Timo did to him a decade ago -“ she flushes as her Don explains in detail (too much detail!) about the should be her Don’s-but-closer-to-her-and=Kizuna’s-age (she wasn’t sure if he was closer to her age, or to Kizuna’s) Sky’s injuries and the corruption in the Vongola. At two points Kizuna elbows Dino in the ribs, but her Don merely grins and tugs his wife into his lap. (The two of them are _ridiculous_.)

“How long do we have to wait, then?” She asks the question as her Don winds down, her Flames lashing a little in agitation. “How long do I have to hide my Rain like he’s a dirty secret?”

“Emi -“ her Rain protests, softly, but she wants to know, and her Don tilts his head in wry acknowledgement.

“A year. Hopefully less. I’d rather Xanxus was in place and securing his legacy _before_ Kizuna gives birth, but certainly before we’re expected to present the little one.” He pauses. “You do realise that most of the world thinks that Romario’s my only Guardian, Emi? Alyessa and Reno have always _mine_ , even though they don’t flank me in the Underworld -“

“- but it feels like I’ve been _skinned_ , Dino.” 

“Like you need to keep him close to make sure he’s there because you should be able to feel him but you can’t?” The tall Rain’s Italian is flawless but not local. “Even if you start in a different bed, you wake up using them as a blanket, ne?”

“How did you -“

“Shamal, can you take a look at Basil’s Flames? None of us thought to check as he clearly has _some_ access to them -” Donna Kizuna’s Flames lash, and her voice is soft-but-steely. “- and Takeshi’s describing what he’s been doing for years. I’ve spent almost eight years as his blanket of choice.”

“It’ll cost you, princess.”

“Shamal.” The Cloud Guardian’s voice is low and threatening, and the Mist puts up his hands.

“No need to pull out the blackmail, brat. I’ll check him, but I need to borrow you for a demolition job if your Sky’s okay with that?” Her new Mist mentor’s question sounds almost amused. “And Emi-brat, you should help with this; it’s actually a trick you’re going to be able to charge a fortune for in future. It’s a headache for me, so I don’t use it much, but it’ll be easiest as a Sky -”

She bounces a little, making Enhydra blush and cover her eyes. “You two are adorable. Seriously, kid. I don’t think I’ve seen anything as cute since I watched Squalo and Xanxus flex at each other and make courting offerings that made me doubt their primary flames had been pegged properly. You _are_ making an old pervert feel guilty though, so maybe talk to your pretty Donna about how to manage the bounce, sì?”

Kizuna laughs, amused. “I don’t have much bounce yet, Shamal, though my itty bitty titty committee does seem to be inflating; Alyessa, you’re the best endowed in the room. Could we impose on you for guidance as to where to buy stuff?”

“Sure. We’ll have a girls day out. Nuvola will have to stay home though.” She giggles. “Why don’t you show your mini-minion how to do her new trick, Shamal, and then we can have dessert brought out; I’m curious as to what the cooks planned to follow this spread.”

“I know how the academy works, brat. What sort of learner are you, and do you know whether that holds true for Flames as well as academics?”

“Doing. I learn by doing.”

“Then sit on your hands Enhydra, or be knocked out -” 

“- but -”

“- if your Sky learns by doing, the fastest way to teach her the fun new trick is to let her piggyback. I’ve had a Sky, kiddo; I’m not looking for a replacement, just for my niece’s brat to start living rather than just surviving. So your instincts are going to scream I’m trying to poach. On Hayato’s life, I’m not.”

“Che. Like you value my life, pervert-Shamal.”

“I value you quite a lot, brat. It’s just not safe to show it. Would you really be able to cope with my enemies chasing you as well as your own?” The Cloud makes an annoyed sound. “I’ve spent sixty years winding people up and half of Sicily wants to kill me on any given day, brat. Normally for sticking my cock in an interesting place, or just by being unwilling to submit.”

“Che. Incorrigible pervert.” Shamal makes a sound of acknowledgement. Mist curls around her Flames, alien and strange, coaxing them to coil and twine themselves around it, and then she squeaks as Shamal guides them, running them through her Rain with easy familiarity, diving into his system using their bond as a shortcut.

“Just close your eyes and let me carry you with me, brat. You should practise this on your own to start with, and then move onto your Donna when you’re ready - with your Don present, just in case - as they’re amusing and you should get a feel for fetal Flame development.” Her Flames recoil unexpectedly and slip the grip of her mentor’s Mist, flooding into her Rain’s system, slamming into the barrier that had made her overreact over and over again. “Shit. Stop that, brat. Snap out of it. There’s a reason Cavallone isn’t trying to batter your Donna’s Seal down. There are three ways to fix this shit, and right now you’re strengthening it.”

She reels her Flames in step by painful step, and whimpers at how hard it is. Her Donna shushes her, hands on her shoulders, calm and steady, and she twitches as she realises the adults have all moved around. “You’re okay, Emi. Shamal’s trying to work out the parameters of the Seal, and what it’s trapped. Most of the time, they used to seal off _all_ of someone’s Flames, but Basil’s got almost as much Rain as Takeshi-nii has available to him, so there’s clearly something else going on with his Flames.”

“I want to kill him. Can I kill him, Kizuna? Please?”

“Oh, honey. I know why you _want_ to, but he’s earned his status as head of the CEDEF the hard way. Neither of us has the right skill set to murder my sperm donor.” Kizuna sounds rueful. “Ask Basil about his training, later, sweetheart.”

“Emiliana, Iemitsu needs to be left to the professionals; I suspect that Xanxus will enjoy disposing of him as his final exam.” Her Don sounds mildly amused. “After all, Reborn has form for using his student’s biggest obstacles that way; mine required me to build enough trust with the island’s government to be able to walk into the Palazzo Montecitorio for a meeting without being arrested by the Carabinieri. It took me a while, but I managed it; when we went up to Milan, I spent a couple of hours talking to a cabinet member.”

“I am going to give everyone involved in this goddamn mess necrotizing fasciitis of the perineum.” Shamal sounds outraged, the Mist finally surfacing from what he’d been working on. “If you’re going to set a fucking Seal on someone, use the right one for the Stupid fucking thing you’re trying to do or better yet, don’t use a fucking Seal!”

“Che. Your Storm’s showing, pervert-zio.”

She sees the rude gesture out of the corner of her eye and flushes bright red. “As I need it, that’s a good thing. Do you remember whether your sperm donor was involved in ‘setting’ your Seal, princess?”

“Uh, maybe? An old, old man pressed a finger to my forehead and everything went wrong, but otousama was there, and I cried when he put me down because everything was cold without him -” Storm Flames lash at the edge of her senses, angry and volatile against her forcible restrained Flames. 

“- calm, Shamal. You’re making even my skin itch. And Emi’s still learning self-control. You’ve implied there’s something seriously wrong with one of her Guardians; we’re lucky she hasn’t hit Dying Will Mode spontaneously. I’ve done so in the past.” Dino sounds almost rueful. “Reborn shot Alyessa to invoke the response; he figured out she was protective enough of the herd that she would have regrets.”

The apparently stormy Mist reels his Flames in achingly slowly, but she stops feeling like she needs to kill everything; just Iemitsu Sawada. “Your Rain’s got a second primary, brat. From the other spectrum; the one that’s really fucking rare. It pops up once in a blue moon, but I’ve documented a full set of parallel Flames and found the records of them in people’s journals from the time of Vongola founding; if we crack his Seal, you should check your archives, Cavallone. You might find some ideas or references in the older journals.”

“Take it off him. You have to take it off him. It feels so wrong.” She blurts the demand out, and her adults laugh, softly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it off him, brat. We might need to take a little time to map out the Seal. At least I know what that spectrum feels like; I had to help manage that one’s sister -” he points at Hayato, “- and the damage she was doing.”

“Che. She’s proof Seals aren’t all malign. Sealing that Flame would have been a mercy to her.” Hayato rolls his shoulder. “And to the rest of us. Uncontrolled poison cooking is a nightmare.”

“Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to be _that_ Flame. I think it’s either the Rain or the Cloud parallel. Are you ready to deal with the territoriality?” 

“Territoriality?”

“Kyōya-nii and Takeshi-nii alternated between being an absolute nightmare and a blessing while I was dealing with puberty. Basil’s going to be double the pest if he’s got those instincts reinforcing each other.”

“Maa, maa. Haha-ue says most of that was me being Electric, but she’s very Electric herself, so she might be biased? Chichi-ue’s the relaxed and chilled one out of the pair of them.” The tall Rain paused. “I wasn’t _that_ bad, surely?”

“We’d have had a class of _four_ , nii-san, if you’d been Active-Active rather than having a kiddie-leash on. And that would only be because you’d have driven Hana Active trying to finish off Kyoko.” The Rain rubs the back of his head sheepishly and slinks back to his chair.

“We still need to investigate the Seal before cracking it, Emiliana; it’s at least a decade old, and time warps them in strange ways. It may take time to remove it; your Donna’s Seal is taking time to disintegrate because the quicker, more forceful methods weren’t going to work.” 

“Ara, would the Dying Will Bullet work for Basil? He can achieve Dying Will Mode as a Rain, so if he was prepared and corralled that Flame, would his other pop out?” The question comes from Dokuzakura (distance, distance, Emi; no trying to jump your Don’s Mist) and her eyes flick, curious, to Shamal. 

“No. Those bullets drag out the dominant/active Flame. Even if you’ve got rigorous self-control. We’re going to have to use one of the more complicated ways to break the Seal. Have you ever taken Dying Will Pills, Basil?”

Her Rain digs in his pocket and pulls out a small container, one that she recognises as the one Basil left on the bedside table and holds it out to the elder Mist, who tips several of the pills out into his hand. Shamal pinches one, crumbling it with a touch of Storm Flames, and then licks a tiny bit of the powder from his fingers. 

“Yeah, slow and steady it is, brat. Hopefully, we can break it before your Donna pops.” Shamal closes his hand and flash-disposes of the pills. “And no, you can’t take those, Kizuna; your sperm donor uses the old recipe to make them. They’ve got an abortifacient in them. From the feel of your respective Seals and these, he’s figured out how to use a variety of things to reinforce them. I have to give the bastard some credit; he’s either paying his minions well, brighter than I thought, or fucking fantastic at corporate espionage.”

“Corporate espionage. I’ve turned most of his infiltrators in Cavallone businesses; most of them have an electric-mist pair in the higher echelons for precisely that reason. But if he’s done anything similar to the other big Families -”

“- oh we have - had? - fingers everywhere. But you running COIN ops would explain why we never got anything useful or interesting out of the plants. He just thought it was you being boring and more interested in the civvie stuff and playing Conte Cavallone for the masses.”

“I am. But there’s a lot of things you can, um, recycle. If you’ve got Storms.” It takes her a moment to realise what her Don means, and she facepalms. “And thanks to Reborn, we have Storms. More Storms than we’ve had for a long time. I needed something to keep them amused and entertained.” Her Don rubs the back of his head making her giggle. “And yeah, you and Enhydra can stay home for the rest of the academic year, _but_ you have to finish the classwork and spend at least five hours a week with a tutor that you talk into making themselves available. I’ll give you a budget for bribes later.”

“… bribes?”

“It’s good practise.” 

Dino scoops up Kizuna, making their Donna flush and squeak, and Chrome facepalms and flares her Mist, displacing the two older Skies from the room. Their senior Mist shrugs when everyone stares at her. “They’re honeymooning. Still. Better to let them boink in bed that making us all blush and Emi and Hydra are too young for a live sex ed class.”

“I’ve seen the mares bred -”

“Human sex has got some added nuance, kiddo. We’ll have to do something about making sure you get that module; the Academy does the biology and the economics, but leave the psychosocial stuff to parents, so they can decide how much religious indoctrination is needed.”

“Yeah. The mares are allowed to kick the stallions in the head and rip off their balls -” 

“- and so are you, Hydra. Just tell one of us about it so we can cover things up if you haven’t already.” Her Mist squeaks; she suspects her comment had been intended to be sub voce. “Maybe try words first before emasculation, though; it tends to be a dramatic and messy option. And unlike emasculated humans, emasculated stallions are still useful.” Alyessa grins. “We should see what dessert was supposed to be. Judging by the quite skilful main course, either Kizuna or Chrome have been in the kitchens half the day with the staff -”

“Not me, Alyessa.” Chrome raises her hands in a warding gesture. “I did give them the recipe cards Eiko translated, though, so it might be spontaneous; the dessert will probably clear it up.”

It does; the delicate and kinda-strangely-flavoured ice cream (not at all like the ones she was used to) had to have been sent from Japan, or bought from a specialist store, and therefore probably made dinner Kizuna’s fault. It makes Chrome and Takeshi both grin though, and she shakes her head amused, and drags her Mist and Rain back towards their suite to digest what they’d learnt - and decide who was going to hunt which tutor.


	23. Mist mischief - POV Shamal

“Che. What the fuck are you really doing here, pervert?”

“Cavallone’s paying me _very_ well, and I’ve always liked going to ground among his Mists. They’re an amusing bunch, and none of them are pigeon-holed into the Vongola’s traditional idea of their role.” He stretches out, back clicking, and then settles back into the comfortable armchair in his suite’s living room. “The little fluff-ball he’s married needs some gentle Mist-augmentation applied to their body so that they can be happy and healthy throughout their pregnancy. I’m damn good at ob-gyn shit, brat.”

“It’s the only reason more people don’t try to murder you on a semi-regular basis, pervert.”

“Why do you think I worked so hard to develop the skill, brat? Now, why are you really here? Gut playing up again?” His nephew scowls at him, but the way he sits in one of the armchairs, he’s probably right. “If it is, is it because you’ve failed to tell the Cavallone kitchens about your dietary needs, or because your sister has been prowling around?”

His nephew grumbles. “I’d been enjoying the food too much to even think about my restrictions.”

“I should let you suffer, but that’ll just make my life harder in the long term.” He curls his Flames carefully readying himself to sink them into his nephew’s system. “How much have you over-indulged, and where does it hurt?”

His nephew glares at him, and he sighs and plunges his Flames into the brat, surfing in through the raw bond to his new Skies - the brat was being such an awkward Cloud about the whole issue - and swears as he finds Hayato’s system riddled with what was essentially poison-cooking-induced celiac disease. He thought he’d managed to get that into a dormant state. It should have stayed in that dormant state _unless_ the brat got caught in his sister’s blast radius or he’d been truly appalling at monitoring his diet.

“So which is it, brat? Too much time close to your sister, or a complete abandonment of the guidelines I gave you?”

“Both? Cavallone’s cooks are amazing, and I felt okay. I really did. But then I realised that the baby Skies who keep napping on me were distressed by something, and I had a run-in with she-who-shall-not-be-named.” He snorts. “I didn’t do it deliberately -”

“One of these days, I am going to catch your half-sister, brat, and drag her to someone who can seal her other-Flames. Or drug her into a more stable state.” His nephew shrugs. “It’s going to take me a few weeks to actually fix you brat, rather than just do a patch job. You’re in surprisingly good shape considering everything, but as you’ve got three baby-Skies napping on you, that probably explains that. We’ll need to make appropriate arrangements with your new Don; you’re not going off-estate until I’m done, unless you’re willing to shoot her in the head the moment you realise she’s present.”

“She’s my sister -”

“She’s a walking talking trauma trigger for you brat, and her not-Storm Flames are killing you. You stay home, or you kill her on sight. Otherwise, I do another patch job, and you go back on your diet. This is a one and done repair.” His nephew makes a grumbling sound.

“You tell Kizuna that she can’t go wandering while I’m under repair. She’s too cute to say no to.”

“Ah. Was that how you were exposed to Bianchi?” His nephew nods. “Did you at least manage to prevent her from attacking your pretty femme Sky? They’re likely to miscarry if exposed to her poison -”

“- that’s how I got exposed. I saw her and chased her off while Chrome brought her back to the Villa. I thought I’d dodged all of her food though -”

“Brat, she’s not restricted to food any more. It’s just the easiest medium.” His nephew shivers. “She gets Sealed, we find her the equivalent of a Sky for whatever her not-Storm Flame actually is, or she gets executed. And as her father won’t make the decision and you’re the heir -”

“Do you really think someone can Seal her?”

“Do you want to risk your Sky trying?” His nephew shudders. “Put a bullet in her if she’s a threat, and for god’s sake stay at least 50ft from her. Now sit still; this is going to itch like fuck, and you’re on chicken broth for a couple of days.” Hayato glares at him, and he snorts. “Don’t worry. I’m going to tell your Sky about it. I’m sure you’re going to find yourself pampered and cossetted by everyone in your proximity.”

He releases the virus he’s been modifying into his nephew’s system, and the brat gives him a betrayed look as it uses his Flames to accelerate its infiltration of his digestive tract. “This is one of those situations where I’m going to fucking hate my existence for the next two days, isn’t it?”

“More like the next week, to be honest. You’d done a number on yourself, and there’s both genetic damage and macro damage to fix.” He lets one of his favourite mosquitos out of its capsule. “But this should let you sleep most of it off under your new blankets.”

“Blankets -”

“Those furry baby Skies who’ve decided that you’re their new favourite schlafplatz, brat. They’ll speed up your healing.” His nephew nods, eyes going hazy, and he snorts, and curls his Flames around the brat, ’shifting them both to the Cloud suite and dropping him onto the low futon, where Hayato curls into the pillows; the kid’s not wearing anything too restrictive, and he’d leave an alteration to prevent any minor messes. That done, he nudges the patio doors open, and whistles for the two Sky cats that thought his nephew was the perfect cuddly toy.

The two cats - though should he be calling a teenage lynx a cat? - bolt-in through the open door and pile on top of his brat, and one of the foals ambles in after them, wearing a surprisingly smug expression, and flops onto the futon, too; he shakes his head and ’shifts back to his own rooms to recharge before going to find his brat’s adorable little fluffball of Sky.

Recharging is fairly simple; he’s a hundred-year-old Mist - he looked damn good for his age; it’s all his own hard work - and he’s learnt some convenient tricks, some directly from the administrator of the Arcobaleno curse. (He doubts the man was aware he’d learned anything from him, but he was a Mist and endlessly curious, and the older Mist had waved _possibilities_ in front of him.) One of those tricks was the ability to store his own Flames in specially created baubles; he concealed them in amongst his mosquito capsules most of the time. He cracks one of those capsules open, re-absorbing the Flames, and making a mental note to ‘refill’ it at the first opportunity.

_Knock, knock!_

He raises an eyebrow as he brushes his Flames against the presence on the other side of the door. The little human Sky he’d been asked to consider as a medical-apprentice - Dino Cavallone had been quite clear that she was neither to be trained as an assassin or a whore - was braver than he’d assessed her to be. He flicks the door open, and she squeaks. “Come into my lair, Emiliana di Cavallone.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad, not really.”

“Aren’t I? If I were female, pretty one, I’d be named what I am: a black widow. My poison of choice is merely viral rather than organic.” He smiles, a little wickedly. “But then you’re a little too young to be truly interested in that skill set. Are you _genuinely_ interested in my medical skills, kid? Or is this someone else’s idea?”

“Enhydra suggested it, but I’m _good_ at biology, and I like first aid, and well, the way Dino perked up when he heard Hydra’s idea was both cute and really flattering.” He snorts. The brat in front of him had a point: the Cavallone’s senior Sky could do maliciously adorable when he tried to. Like a stumbling foal, harmless, right up until the point he _wasn’t_. (It was entertaining to watch, and he still didn’t understand how the blond was managing it; he even had a Varia nickname, so for people to be so oblivious to his lethality was an achievement.)

“So bribery, brat. How much did your menace end up giving you to arrange your tutors?”

“I’m fairly sure I shouldn’t tell you that. You’ll decide you need precisely one-quarter of it.”

“Just one quarter? It’s for tutors for the three of you.”

His new student, shrugs. “I was thinking a third, and my Flames _screamed_. They stopped screaming when I thought fourths. Plus I wasn’t going to assume you wanted to teach me for all five hours, Dr Shamal. I could start bidding, though, if you promise not to be insulted by my low-balling -”

“Nah, I’ll take an hourly peppercorn rate, say €10? Use the rest to spoil your Guardians, kid. Or to come up with a cunning and evil-but-cute baby gift for the fluff-ball your Don’s married.” He stretches. “And before you ask my motivations, the idea of teaching a Sky to heal is one I’ve been curious about for _years_. Longer than you’ve been alive. Providing you pay attention to your lessons and cooperate with modifying techniques, I only need costs at _most_.”

“Okay. I can do that, I think.” Emiliana grins and bounces on her toes. “So what’s wrong with Hayato? And I thought Donna Kizuna was only just pregnant; why does she need help now?”

“She needs help because she’s actually they, and not quite one gender or the other. I’m making sure they’ve got space for their brat to grow, and that it’s all going to be comfy going forward - and that includes making a genuine assessment as to whether they can push the brat out the conventional route, or needs some help. It’s best to know that earlier rather than later.” She hums thoughtfully. “Shall we start with female reproductive anatomy, and then I can show you Kizuna’s variant version? We can use yours as a baseline, and I can check that you’ve not got any of the major disorders in the process -”

“Is she okay with that? And um, I don’t want another physical exam, thank you very much. I sort-of went Active because of the last one -”

“- I’m assuming someone murdered the medic for you? Given you’re living with Cavallone, I’m guessing it wasn’t your mother.” She squirms and nods. “It’s a trick you might need your Mist to do in future, but Flames are a fantastic cheat, kid. I can do a full-body scan and ‘store’ it for recall in ten minutes if I’m not tired. No penetration, sexual or otherwise, in the process. Go take a pew, and I’ll get started. Just sink into your Flames while I work.” The little Sky nods, and curls up in one of his living room chairs, sinking into her Flames fairly smoothly and with far more confidence than he’s used to in Skies her age. There was definitely something to be said for how the Cavallone raised their Skies; they could clearly keep them from being as fratricidal as the Vongola boys had become, even in generations where they were a number to compete for the ‘title’.

He sits back in his chair, head pounding slightly, and pulls a capsule necklace from his suitcase, and shoves the twisted bundle of Flames that represented the scan into it. “Done.” The little Sky twitches, surfacing. “When we’ve taken a look at it, I’ll give you this to keep; they’re easier to update than to create from scratch, and you’re old enough for the bodily autonomy.” He waves the capsule and then pushes just enough of his Flame into it to project the part of the little Sky’s system most useful for their purposes into the air in front of them both. "Now, you’ve started your monthlies, right …?

The little Sky has _precisely_ the ‘knack’ he’s learned to look for in medical apprentices. He’s surprised; it didn’t normally show up in thirteen-year-olds. The youngest medic apprentice he’d picked up in the past had been nineteen, and he thought he’d been on the young side for formal training. He’d expected to just teach the girl a bit of advanced first aid and anatomy, but that knack was worth nurturing. He carries her back to her suite over his shoulder - he’d dived straight into manipulating the illusions, and showing her how to use Sky Flames to mimic what he was doing; he’d learned _that_ from her great-great-aunt - and does as he had with his bratty nephew, tucking her into her bed still fully clothed. He wards her door against everyone except her Guardians. (If she hadn’t caught Lal Mirch accidentally, he’d eat his mosquito case. The bond was very, very immature and could be severed, but was there.)

That done, he meanders back through the Villa, following the ‘trail’ of Sky Flames (not currently tinged with sexual pleasure) to hunt down the senior pair in residence. It was such a shame the two of them were quite sincerely monogamous and besotted; it was fun to share a bed with a Sky or a pair of them. Especially a pair that seemed to be so adorable in their kinkiness as his Hosts.


	24. Lapcat - POV Dino

“Cavallone?”

“You know, using that as a query here can get you a chorus of yeses, Shamal. All our Skies can use it if they choose to, and if their Skies are using it, their Guardians are entitled to be di Cavallone, too -”

“Noted. But I was looking for you and it worked, and you’re not _my_ Don.” Kizuna’s fingernails resume working his scalp and he grins at his pretty wife as the Mist slips into the room. “You look comfortable, -”

“- oh, I am. But as I have a beautiful wife and she’s petting me perfectly, -” Kizuna flushes prettily, and he wraps her in his Flames briefly. “- I think that’s a given. I’ll return the favour again later.”

“You’re being rotten, husband.”

“You don’t feel like you’re objecting, koibito.” He turns his head just enough to be able to see someone sat on the other side of the social nook they were occupying. “Put your ass in one of the armchairs Shamal, and tell me why you feel like you need six cups of coffee and a straitjacket.”

“I do?”

“You’re ‘duller’ than I’ve ever seen you and _still_ managing to vibrate like a swarm of bees.”

The Mist sprawls in one of the armchairs and pulls an oversized case out of one of his pockets, sorting through it, and then snapping something that looked a lot like a smelling-salt vial and perking up, Flames almost instantly brighter again.

“I got a bit carried away. I’m keeping your baby Sky; she’s got the knack, and by the time she’s 18, I’ll have her ready to take her exams. I’ll have to check with some old friends as to whether she’ll be able to do her ward hours/clinical rotations with them.”

“And _that_ explains the vibration. Are you sure?”

“I claim less than one apprentice a decade, Cavallone. I’m pickier than Reborn is. She’s got the knack, and she’s genuinely interested. Did you realise she’d conned her mother - who I know there’s an issue with, or you wouldn’t have her living in the main villa - into letting her do adult first aid courses already?”

“Yes, there were issues, but they’re sorted, and they’re supervised when they interact now. Her mother isn’t even Flame Active. We’re still not sure how Emiliana came out so obviously a Sky, but she’s very much one, so I had the right to intervene as Conte Cavallone.” He grins. “I half expect Emi and Hydra to start trying to cause her apoplexy soon.” Shamal and Kizuna both snort in amusement. “Have you arranged a shopping trip for lingerie, koibito?”

“Two. Or rather we put together preliminary plans, but I needed to ask you for escorts and the jet, anata. Alyessa suggested we go into a boutique she knows in Milan so things can be adjusted.”

“Hayato’s going to need a few weeks before he can go out to play again, princess.” Shamal snorts. “If I didn’t know he was queer as the day is long, I’d envy him for getting to play escort for bra-fitting, but he is, so I’m not.” He raises an eyebrow at the Mist, Flames curling in clear reprimand and order to ‘get to the point’. “Fine. My nephew, great-nephew, however, you want to refer to the relationship had - he’s halfway through the fix - severe internal damage from his half-sister that he’s been making worse. He’s on bed rest for the next few days and clear fluids for at least a week.”

“Did we -?” Kizuna’s question trails off, and Shamal pulls a face.

“No. Neither of you are trained medics, and he didn’t say anything, even to the kitchens about his restrictions. If I remember correctly, Bianchi’s been banned from your ‘county’ for the last two years, sì?”

“She has. She thought if she killed me, she could have all of Reborn’s attention for herself. Given what Reborn’s said though, he’s not far off executing her himself - he’d certainly planned to if my koibito couldn’t handle her because preservation of Timo’s heir was more important than keeping Bianchi alive.”

“Good. I assume it’s enforced? Hayato’s been her long-term victim; their shared sperm donor thought that he made an excellent test-dummy for her poison-cooking. It left him with something akin to celiac disease. If he’d followed his diet and kept away from his sister, he would have been fine.”

“Will he need a special diet after this?”

“No. But when he was younger, I modelled what he’s currently undergoing, and it’s a one-off fix; serious re-exposure to his sister will re-traumatise his system and force him back onto a restrictive diet.” The Mist pulls a face. “If you see her, either of you, shoot her. I’ll send a message to her via her father suggesting she head off of Sicily if she wants to survive; there are rumours that the Shimon went eastwards. They might have control exercises that will help.”

“I take it from that you’ve tried and been unsuccessful, Shamal-san?”

“I was their family doctor for almost seven years, Kizuna. Her Flames even eat through two of the major sealing techniques. All I could do was minimise the harm; the second spectrum is so rare in Italy that there’s no family training techniques or journals to raid. I even broke into the Vongola archives, Cavallone. Which is why I know about the Shimon and that they went East, but beyond that …”

“Can you write up a description for me, Shamal-san, so I know what I’m looking for other than ‘a woman who looks a bit like Hayato and makes him freak out’. We should tell my clan about her, too? They’re most likely to run up against her if she makes it in-country -” his wife sounds mildly amused, “- I’m going to need a holster with an illusion on it, husband. Most of my clothes don’t make it easy to hide a pistol, and I really don’t get on with thigh holsters.” Kizuna pauses, and then her Flames feel mischievous. “Well, at least not _outside_ the bedroom.”

“ _Koibito!_ ”

“You, woman, are evil. My sort of evil. If I were eighty years younger and had found you first, Cavallone wouldn’t have got a look in.”

“I’m flattered. I think?”

“Be flattered, koibito. He’s legendarily fussy about potential long term relationships. And he’s one and done on Skies; I believe he was implying he’d be your Mist Guardian, too.”

“I was.” Shamal shakes his head and sighs. “I’ve not been even vaguely interested in a Sky since Tiberia died. It’s the downside to outliving them.”

“It explains why you can disappear so effortlessly on the Cavallone lands, Shamal. And why the herds like you so much. You’ve changed; now you’ve ‘let’ me see it -”

“- well, how else was I supposed to escape people’s assumptions? And it’s not much of a change; I just leached the red out of my hair and darkened my complexion -” Shamal grins, “- I looked a lot like Hayato but with silvery-red hair. Despite being a primary Mist, I was a throwback to G.” The Mist turns thoughtfully, colour draining out of his skin and his hair redening. “Will you throw a tantrum if I go and visit the cranky Sky you’re helping my old student hide, Cavallone? I have no love for Timo; he always was a nightmare when we were fighting Beno’s blackshirts -”

“Just be prepared to duck.” He twitches, and Kizuna’s hands stop moving. “Be prepared for an interrogation, too, though, if he recognises you or you admit to being our seventh Mist. He knows that he’s Daniela’s great-grandson - Mammon was able to tell that much - but he doesn’t know much more than that.”

“I think I can fill in some details.” Shamal pushes up out of his chair. “Be gentle with my bratty nephew, and I’ll be back in a few weeks to start training Emiliana and to check your bun’s baking properly, Kizuna. If _anything_ feels significantly off, or your intuition decides to scream at you - _either_ of you; you’ve got enough Vongola blood to have hyper intuition, Cavallone - send me a message, and I’ll come running.” The Mist hesitates. “If I promise to mostly give up the murder, can I retire to your ‘county’, Cavallone? I think I’m ready to come home and be a bad influence on the new generation -”

“- given the number of my Mists who hang out with Squalo and think infiltrating the government is a fun game, I doubt you could actually _be_ a bad influence, Shamal.” Shamal looks confused, and he takes mercy on him. “That’s a yes, ridiculous man; as far as I’m concerned you could have come home when I took over as Decimo; were my father and grandfather being idiots about the issue?” He takes the Mist spinning on his heel and vanishing as yes, they had been, and he resolves to read through their journals. But later. Once he’s done something about the little problem his wife had developed: she smells delicious.


	25. Ridiculous Sweet Boys - POV Takeshi

“Takeshi-nii?”

“Yes, Tsu-neko?”

“Hayato’s on bed rest. Be nice to him. And no, no muscat or mochi. He’s on clear fluids only.” He bounces on his toes and his Sky shakes her head. “Nothing too spicy, ’Keshi. But if you can remember how to make the broth I know Eiko-obasama basically lived on -”

“Maa, maa, tou-san taught me to make that about halfway through her recovery. I can make it with my eyes shut. Will your pretty husband’s cooks even let me in the kitchen, though?”

“’Keshi?”

“Yes?”

“Do I need to hit you with a clue-bat?” He blinks. “You’re the Family’s senior Rain and they know you can cook. As long as you don’t blow up the kitchen or make an irredeemable mess, the worst thing they’ll do is take notes and try and figure out your favourite foodstuffs.” His Sky giggles. “Most of them are actually mother-hen Suns; it’s adorable. I normally don’t make it out of the kitchens without a pile of treats to share with Dino-koi.”

“This is like Kasumi-ba sweeping into oji-sama’s spaces and everyone yielding to her, isn’t it?”

“It’s adorable that I had to walk you into that realisation, onii-san.”

“Being semi-active’s made you mean, Tsu-neko. But in a good way. I’m glad you have a husband that’s able to keep you … _occupied_.”

“Hiiieee. Nii-san! Okaachama’s _corrupted_ you!” He ruffles his adopted Sky-sibling’s hair affectionately.

“Maa, maa, being married really has been good for you, Tsu-neko.” His baby sister-Sky glares at him and he wants to laugh at the adorability of the expression. “Your husband clearly suits you; I should apologise to otousan and Reborn-sama for doubting their choice.” He grins. “And it wasn’t just okaachama. She and otousan pounced on Squalo-san and dragged him off to play with right there in front of me, Tsu-neko. He walked funny when we boarded the jet -”

“I should ask okaachama if we’re going to get a little sister.” Tsu-neko singsongs and grins at him, teasingly. “She’s still young enough, after all.”

“Maa, maa. If they want another baby, that’s up to them. I think kaa-san might need some help with that, though. She was really badly injured, Tsu-neko.” He shivers. “I saw more of her insides that I ever wanted to see, and she needed that broth for months and months.” His sister-Sky hugs him, radiating apologetic Sky Flames - and there’s a lot he’s willing to offer Dino Cavallone for giving her that ability back - and he squeezes her gently. “You, go tease your husband; maybe take him riding? I’m going to check in on our grouchy Cloud and see if he’ll take some broth. At least being bitten by him is more fun than being bitten by Kyōya.”

“’Keshi!”

“Well, it is. He’s adorable and an excellent stress-buster.”

“Be nice. And ask Shamal for _medical_ time frames before you try any stress-busting, nii-san.”

“Maa, maa, so untrusting, Tsu-neko.”

“Common sense isn’t very common around my nii-sans.” She - so a she day - pauses and grins. “Nii-san.”

“And I was being so nice to you, brat. Do I need to drag you down to the practice rooms for some non-connubial exercise? Have you been working on your footwork, imouto-chan? Or your shooting?” His Sky-sister sticks a tongue out at him.

“I’ll stick to riding _with_ Dino for right now, nii-san. But maybe I’ll ask Romario to help with the shooting. I think he uses a Beretta 9mm? And maybe I can dance with Dino-koi?”

“… I feel like I should protest, but you’re married to him, so he’s a completely acceptable partner for ballroom dancing.”

Tsu-neko giggles. “Oh ’Keshi. We’ve got formal balls coming up soon. _Everyone_ will be dancing. You should ask Hayato whether he minds playing the woman for those events or not …”

“And why couldn’t I do it with a pretty kimono, Tsu-neko?”

“You could. But now picture _Hayato_ in the pretty kimono, oniisan. With his glasses on and kotenjō balanced on his shoulder …”

“Maa, maa. Marriage really has made Tsu-neko’s mean. I hope that’s because Tsu-neko’s saving all her sweetness for her husband.”

“Hiiieee. _Takeshi_.” He leans over and ruffles his sibling’s hair again, making her pout at him.

“Shoo, Tsu-neko. Go ride your husband. I’ll go feed mine.” His Sky-sister eyes him, bemused. “I’m keeping him. He’s fun. If your intuition points out a potential third for us, whistle, imouto-chan; in the meantime, I’ll be attempting to persuade him to _let_ me keep him.”

His sister laughs, and strokes Flame coated fingers over her chatelaine, vanishing into the Mist working that protected the Villa, leaving him alone to shake his head and try to remember where the kitchens were; he hadn’t even thought to ask for access to them for cooking purposes.

In the end, he gives in and taps into the same Mist ’net that allows his Sky to ’port around the Villa, and uses it to locate the cluster of ‘soft’ Suns and their Flame saturated working area. He meanders in that direction, humming softly to himself and contemplating how he’d need to modify the ramen broth for Hayato’s western palate. The Storm-Cloud seemed to prefer fish over red meat, and sweet peppers over garlic …

When he’s completely satisfied with the broth - he’d strained it through cheesecloth a half-dozen times and tasted it a lot more times than that - he pours a quarter of it into the bowl. He stretches a cover over it and pours the rest into three ball jars for rotating with the other versions of the broth he'd make later so Hayato wouldn't get bored.

Sneaking into a Cloud’s living space isn’t the best idea he’s ever had, especially since Hayato isn’t his oni-san (Kyōya didn’t really mind him invading his space thanks to _years_ of acclimatisation). Though the Cloud was currently on bed rest, so he probably wasn’t going to end up with a broken arm. Probably. Might end up singed though, given his pretty prey’s other Flames? And at least Hayato wouldn’t leave tooth marks in him unless there were sexy times involved …

He finds the Storm Cloud asleep on a low futon (and huh, he’d expected a European type bed not a futon, but he guessed it made it easier for the animals that had decided Hayato was their favourite cuddly toy, maybe?) and puts the bowl of broth on one of the chests, and gently shoos the two foals and the lynx he’d accidentally smuggled into the country out of the patio doors. He leaves the still tiny Sky kitten curled under his pretty Storm Cloud’s chin for the minute.

“Hayato-kun?” He murmurs the Storm Cloud’s name softly, and flares his secondary gently, just enough to make someone’s skin prickle. The Cloud wriggles and yawns, rolling towards him, and he grins. “Wake up, sleepyhead. I’ve got something tasty and safe for you to, uh, drink, neko-koi.” He let his Rain Flames seep out slowly; just enough to keep Hayato sleepy and pliant in a bid to avoid him hurting himself, and watches as the pain drains out of the smaller man’s features. (It was another trick he’d learned from his kaa-chan’s slow recovery.)

“Huh?”

“Can you sit up for me, neko-koi? I brought you the broth that helped kaa-chan recover from being gutted.”

“How’d’yu …?” He grins and reaches for the bowl of broth as Hayato pushes himself somewhat upright against the pillows.

“As Tsu-neko will tell you, I’m very hard to keep out of places that I want to get into, neko-koi. It’s the Lightning in my soul.” The Storm Cloud gives him a very speaking look, and he barely restrains the urge to kiss the tip of his pretty little nose. (Or his pretty lips.) “But I brought something for you to drink, pretty thing. Otousan swears it helped kaa-chan help faster, and even if it didn’t, it’s tastier than plain water or electrolyte solution.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You say that like I should be ashamed of being a menace, neko-koi.” He grins. “Try some of the broth for me, and tell me which are your other favourite protein sources, pretty one. You’ll want the variety over the next few days.” He squirms as he realises the way his words could be taken. He didn’t think Hayato was up to cocksucking tonight, but fuck it would be sexy. Hayato’s hands shake, though, when he tries to take the bowl, and he sighs. “Let me feed you, Hayato-kun. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. And I’ll make sure you’ve got straws with ‘dinner’.”

Feeding Hayato-kun comes easily; the muscle memory from helping to feed his kaa-chan when she was healing still there, buried under his swordsmanship and everything else. It actually seems to be harder on his pretty Storm Cloud. (Which was sad; he had vague memories of being spoonfed when sick; didn’t everyone? But Tsu-neko had said he’d had a hard life …)

“Okay, that actually tastes good, sword-idiot.” He grins. “Where the fuck did you find it? I’ve had Shamal’s idea of a restorative broth, and it _sucks_.”

“Maa, maa. It’s a family recipe. Tsu-neko suggested I make some for you.” Hayato looks like he’s slapped him with the fish he’d used to make the broth. “Tou-san’s a chef as well as a swordsman, neko-koi. He and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen bonding when we had to take Tsu-neko in. And before that, people wanted to take me, and kaa-chan got badly injured, and recovery took a _very_ long time. Kaa-chan drank a lot of broth while she recovered -”

“Chicken, and um, tuna? Meat redder than um, wild boar makes me feel ill -”

“I can work with all three. I take it the salmon’s good, too, Hayato-kun?” His Storm-Cloud is a pretty shade of pink that looks surprisingly fetching on him; the smaller man nods, licking his lips, and he barely manages to suppress a whine. He raises the spoon to Hayato’s mouth again, and this time the Storm-Cloud’s definitely teasing him; he’s got the cutest little tongue. “I’ll, um, be back later with some more broth, Hayato-kun. My libido’s being awkward -”

Hayato raises an eyebrow at him.

“- well, it is! It’s not like you’d want to do anything sexy while recovering. And I have a perfectly good hand and a private shower, and I don’t think making you suck my cock right now is, um, likely to be medically safe. Even if it would be pretty to watch my cock slide between your pretty pink lips, neko-koi.” He grins. “Tsu-neko tells me we have to dance at some of the formal events we’ll have to accompany her and her pretty husband to, Hayato-kun; I have a pretty kimono for playing the girl, if you don’t want to, or we can have you fitted for your own.”

He slips out of the patio doors and leaves his fellow Guardian to process what he’s just revealed. Elektra takes the opportunity to sneak back into the suite, and he laughs, and circles back around the outside of the Villa to the kitchens to work on making some more batches of broth for his pretty Storm-Cloud.


	26. One Confused Cat - POV Hayato

He stares at the patio doors his fellow Guardian just slipped out through and tries to process what just happened. Kotenjō purrs ferociously, radiating baby Sky Flames at him and lifts her down into his lap so he can pet her properly. She’s still tiny, and he suspects she always will be. She kneads at his chest, and he sighs. “What am I supposed to do with him, Kotenjō? And what was our Donna thinking calling you little sky? I hope Cavallone is a little better at naming things than she is, given the foal in her belly.”

The kitten’s Flames feel decidedly amused and he rubs at the base of her ears. She melts ontop of him, an ooze of rumbling-and-content cat.

“Though I suppose Cavalluccio will make for a cute nickname for the kid. But it doesn’t solve my sword-idiot problem.” Elektra jumps up onto the futon and pads up to curl next to him, and headbutts his hand until he starts petting her, too. “I’m not even sure he realises what he’s offering me, cat-brats. Do the Japanese court in the same way?” Elektra’s purr rumbles and her Flames flex weirdly, rippling through the Villa’s Mist workings, and he eyes her warily. He must have stopped petting though, because Kotenjō nips his hand gently, and he resumes scritching the demanding little furball.

There’s a gentle knock at the patio doors, and he resists the temptation to pretend he’s asleep still. “Hayato-san?” Elektra chuffs, her flames rippling weirdly again, and the Mist steps into the room. “Elektra thinks you need me as a translator, but I’m not sure if it’s for her, or for one of my cousins …”

“Cousins?”

“Tsu-neko-hime and ’Keshi-nii. It’s um, honorary? The Clans have been allied for a very, very long time.”

“If you’ve got a Takeshi decoder ring -”

“I have a partial one. My itoko is a surprisingly complex character at times.” He raises a sceptical eyebrow, and she laughs. “Can I sit on the end of your futon, Hayato-san, or would you rather I made myself a chair?”

“Given the quantity of fur on my bed, if you’re willing to sit on it, you’re welcome to do so?” Chrome laughs and sits on the end of the futon, Elektra abandoning him to flow into her lap. The lynx washes the Mist’s face furiously, and she squeaks. “I take it you’ve helped with bottle feeding them, Chrome?”

“I did. But she’s a menace when she likes your Flames - she’s still trying to find her first Guardian.” Chrome ruffles the half-grown lynx’s fur gently. “Which I suspect is part of why she got oba-sama to help her smuggle herself to Italy. We’re not entirely sure whether there can be cross-species Guardian-Sky bonds, but she hasn’t had any luck amongst the wild cats in Japan.”

“If Cavallone’s anything to go by, it is. If our Donna hadn’t latched onto me, I think Nuvola would have been their Guardian in everything but name. She’s teaching me things -”

“- oh, Hayato-kun. I saw Dino-sama’s Flames flirting with yours. I don’t think you had any chance to avoid them reeling you in when they ganged up on you.” He hmphs, and she giggles. “Tsu-neko-hime just made the process a little faster. So why do you need a ’Keshi-decoder?”

“Why would he call me neko-koi, and does he _really_ cook?”

“Ara -” the Mist beams at him, “- my itoko’s in love!”

“Chrome -”

“Well, he is. He’s calling you cat-love. At the very least, he’s crushing on you. And he fights you like oba-san fights oji-san when you spar, Hayato. I thought given the way you seek him out to spar with, you reciprocated?”

“That’s him _flirting_?!”

“That’s him flirting, yes.” She grins. “And yes, he cooks. Oji-san’s civilian, uh, persona - well other than the zokuchō of the Asari - is as a _renowned_ sushi chef, Hayato-kun. Tsuyoshi-ji runs a family-style restaurant because he enjoys it, not because he has to. And he and Takeshi spend as much time in the kitchen together as they do in the dojo. More so since Eiko-ba and Tsuyoshi-ji adopted Tsu-neko-hime, because he wanted to make sure Takeshi didn’t feel ignored.”

He can feel his cheeks burn.

“So, knowing that, do you _want_ to reciprocate his interest?”

“I think so? Maybe?”

“You need to decide, soon. And be gentle with him if it’s a no, Hayato-kun. He’s a Rain, even if he is pretending to be a Lightning right now.” He scrubs his face with his hands, not sure what to say or to think about things. “He’s grown up with the idea of being in a trio, so if you’re worried about biological children -”

“Che. That’s not the issue. I’d let the damn Falco bloodline die with me, given half a choice.”

“Fair. Though I suspect Shamal might be able to help you have kids while killing that particular bloodline _if_ you want them eventually. If it’s not the kid issue -”

“It isn’t.”

“- then what’s making you so twitchy, Hayato? Why not let my itoko spoil you rotten?”

He makes a face and pets Kotenjō for a long, silent moment, but Chrome continues staring at him with those big indigo-rimed eyes, and he sighs. “What will he expect from me, Chrome? Am I to be his catamite or his partner?”

She giggles. “Oh, Hayato. Given Takeshi’s um, interests, he’d be more likely to be your catamite than you his. He’d rather have a partner, though. He’s grown up for the last eight years alongside Tsu-nekō-hime, and I’ve wandered into his head accidentally a few times. He learned to dance as the woman to oni-san, for starters -”

“Oni-san?”

“You met him when you came to Japan to escort us; he doesn’t officially have a Name, but that’s because he’s very manipulative for a Cloud.”

“I think Nippon no Kumo counts as a Name, Chrome -”

“Ara. It’s only a title, Hayato-kun, and it’s one he may surrender if he decides to keep Xanxus di Varia permanently.” She grins, shark-like. “He sulked for weeks after heika-oji-sama confirmed my Name after I saved Tsu-neko-hime from someone gunning for Iemitsu. I stuffed poison cherry blossoms down their throats. He restrains himself to breaking heads and recruiting his concussed casualties as cannon-fodder.”

“Judging by Itō-san, they don’t mind too much.” She giggles. “And uh, is the poison cherry blossom trick one you learned from your oba-sama?”

“Hayato-kun, the only time I’m going to try to stuff them down _your_ throat is if you hurt my itoko. And no, that doesn’t include anything that happens in bed or in a dojo. I’m more talking about emotionally. And I’m a Mist and his sister-cousin. I’ll _know_ if you do.” He blinks at her.

“Chrome, is there something I need to know before I -?”

“He essentially spent twelve years as a widowed Guardian, Hayato-kun. And while heika-oji-sama visits, we didn’t have a Sky in Namimori he could lean on. He’s going to be very clingy; fortunately, exposure to Kyō-nii has beaten basic Cloud-handling into his head.” She snickers. “Kyo-nii’s very Cloudy about his personal space and free with his tonfa to enforce it. My suggestion would be that you swat ’Keshi-nii whenever he crosses a line so he knows when he’s gone too far … I’ve got some pretty tessen that will make it flirtatious to boot.”

“Tessen?”

“War fans, Hayato-kun. We all trained with them, but none of us took them up as our primary weapon. I can teach them to you if you want? Or when Kyō-nii comes to stalk his chosen Sky I suspect his Tetsu will follow him, and he does use them for combat; he can even stop bullets with them. He’d teach you if I asked.” He raises an eyebrow at her, and she creates an illusion of the Asari fans, spinning them open and showing off their lethality. “I’ll leave you to contemplate your options, Hayato-kun.”

The Mist vanishes before he can say anything, leaving the lynx cub to make a grumpy sound, and then bounce up the futon to sprawl on top of him, pinning him to the mattress and washing his face aggressively. “She’s right, you’re a menace. I’ve _got_ a Sky. Two of them, even.”

Elektra rumbles a laugh.

“If it goes wrong, how do we make it work? We’re both bonded Guardians - we can’t get away from each other.” The cub headbutts him and rumbles a purr at him, pushing some of her Flames under his skin, warm, rich Sky Flames that make him feel like he’s taken a hot bath and been thoroughly cuddled. “Sky Flames can’t fix everything, pretty-kitty.” She headbutts him more vigorously, and he scruffs her gently. “How would you like it if someone took your fixation away, brat?”

A single image - clearly from the lynx’s eye view, of Tsu-neko leaving the Asari-compound, the cub in a crate and annoyed about it - inserts itself into his brain.

“ _Really?_ ” She nods and resumes rumbling on his chest. “Huh. You don’t behave like a fixated Lightning, brat.” She actually scowls at him, and it’s adorable. “Fixated Lightnings are terrifying brat. It’s the excuse everyone makes for why they get raised and trained the way they do in Sicily. Well, the way they get raised outside the Cavallone, apparently.”

She nips his nose and he yelps as another image shoves itself into his head.

“Okay, okay. So it’s an Italian issue! Though, seriously brat. Did you need to share _that_ image?” She rumbles at him and attempts to kiss his nose in apology. “So he won’t turn into a bunny-boiler if I test the waters. When Shamal tells me I can, I mean.” She nods, and he sighs and buries his hands in her fur and scritches all the sweet spots he’s found on his brat-cat. “So I guess I let him spoil me a bit more and see where it goes.” He snorts. “If we get as far as fucking, you’re not allowed to be in the room while we do.” Elektra chuffs at him, and he shakes his head.

“She’ll be a bit hard to keep out. Kaa-chan and I both sort of don’t notice locks -” He swallows a squeak, and Elektra rumbles another laugh.

“Have you ever learned to _knock_?”

“Tou-san tried. It didn’t take.” He rolls over and screams into the pillow. “I tend to stay out of really Cloud-saturated areas, though? Kyō-nii was rather brutal in making his boundaries clear.”

“Then why are you in _here_?!”

“… because I didn’t leave Kyō-nii to lick his wounds in peace, either. And no one should have to drink Shamal’s idea of a restorative; I made him let me taste it. That stuff’s nasty; I think one of his viruses has fried his taste buds.”

“That sounds about right. He tests most of his tricks on himself, first, especially his new viruses. It’s quite possible he didn’t realise that he’d knocked his taste buds out.”

“There’s a _little_ bit of garlic in this one, Hayato-koi. If it doesn’t work for you, I’ve got some more of the one I made you earlier, but this didn’t taste quite right without it -”

“Che. I can eat garlic. I _like_ garlic. Most of the time. It disagrees with me when I’ve seen Bianchi, but Shamal’s fixed that -” Takeshi beams at him and brandishes a flask and a straw, and he takes them, and sips the contents warily. (He’s gotten used to garlic being a warning sign, but he loves it so much that he’s willing to risk it.)

“Good?”

“Good. Chicken, right?” He takes a slightly bigger swallow, cautious but fairly sure it was okay.

“Yup. I’ve got two more flavours down in the kitchen. Shamal says you should have half a pint of broth every two or three hours; the kitchen knows to send one up regularly.”

“I can’t move, sword-idiot.” The Rain shrugs, and he glares at him.

“That’s okay. I was going to stay and help you; you’re going to want to use the bathroom soon. And well, I-was-hoping-we-could-cuddle?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He barely resists the urge to bury his head in his pillows again and scream. “I promise, I’m Rainy enough I won’t be poking you in the ass while we cuddle.”

“Hmph. And if I want it to poke me -”

“- I’d be happy to, but you’re on bedrest, Hayato. And I asked the pervert; I can’t even suck you off.”

“You _asked_ -” he chops himself off, “- of course you asked him. Were you so sure?”

“Hopeful. And I didn’t want to hurt you. Your great-uncle is terrifying.”

“But _why_?”

“I spent a lot of time talking to kaa-chan when she was recovering from being gutted.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Kaa-chan’s where I get my Electric tendencies from, Hayato-koi. She told me all sorts of stories about managing my tendencies to fixate, and how to see a fixation coming. And the importance of minimising the damage.” Takeshi flushes, and it’s surprisingly cute. He mentions as much, and the Rain looks genuinely flustered. “I, Hayato -”

“You’ve been honest about what you want, and I think you heard me working out what I was going to do about it. So why beat around the bush.” He snorts at his own inadvertent pun. “Well, I suppose beating anything is out of bounds for now. But I think we can probably cuddle and kiss a bit? Maybe?” Takeshi nods eagerly and he shakes his head, flushing. “If you can evict these two, -” he indicates the cats, “- and ensure they stay out at least for a few hours, we can take a nap.”

“That, I can do.” He watches in bemusement as Takeshi scruffs Elektra and scoops up Kotenjō and drops them outside the patio doors and does something to the lock. “That should hold for a few hours. No one’s taught Elektra to _focus_ her knack for ignoring locks yet.”

He raises an eyebrow at the Rain. “Tsu-neko implied that was unintentional.”

“Yes, well. That’s what we told them and tou-san. Kaa-chan’s side of the family are _all_ mischievous lightnings. The tuna was it’s own reward, though.” He snorts and Takeshi grins and bounds over to him. “We can nap, now, right?”

“We can nap.” The Rain wraps himself around him, and he sighs. The body heat helps. “Sleep, brat. I’m sure I’ll wake up when I’m hungry again.” Takeshi makes an amused sound and Rain Flames drag him under.


	27. A Touch of Redemption - POV Timoteo

“If you won’t listen to me when I use my words, then we can do this the way we did when we were boys.” He blinks at his Cloud, the words taking a moment to make sense.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve used that method to settle our arguments, old friend.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have let you go so long between thorough shakings, Timo.” His Cloud’s body language and the way his Flames feel when he touches them making it clear he’s thoroughly fucked up _somewhere_ along the way. “Perhaps I should have dragged you into the Cradle and beaten the shit out of you the last time you refused to retire.”

“Xanxus did that for you, and then Enrico and Federico died, and I had no sons left; what else was I supposed to do?”

“Waiting for Iemitsu’s brat to grow up clearly wasn’t the sane plan, even if it seemed to be the only one left after you let the man see if the Rings might accept him.” His Cloud sighs. “You do realise your precious outside contractor is right here in Italy, not in Japan?”

“He is?” 

“He’s up in one of your aunt’s villas in the mountains; I have no idea whether he’s brought Tsunayoshi here with him, but if he has there was clearly something very wrong.” He blinks. “And I need you to give me one _good_ reason why I shouldn’t go _old_ school and cut Sawada senior’s throat and dump him in the sea, Timo.”

“I can only give you the same reasons I’ve always given you, old friend.”

“And if Tsunayoshi is old enough to take the Family, then we don’t need Iemitsu any longer.” His Cloud looks like he wants to add something else, but shuts his mouth and turns his back on him. Before he can ask what’s on his mind, Visconti asks him another question, one that feels like a non-sequitur. “When was the last time you saw Basil, Timo?”

“Last week -”

“- he died in a car bomb last month. Try again.”

“He was here. Last week. We were discussing the way the Trattoria are nibbling at the eastern borders.” His Cloud pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Stay. I need to talk to Coyote.” He blinks at his Cloud. “Seriously, Timo. Your ass stays in that chair, or I really will take you down to the Cradle and kick you around Xanxus’s ice-cube until you find your damned sense again.” The tone and the mild profanity startles him into staying firmly planted into the chair until his two senior Guardians return, and rather ominously, _lock_ his office doors. All three of them. 

“When did you last see Basil, Boss?”

“A week ago; he was taking notes for Iemitsu while we discussed the Trattoria.” His Storm’s Flames flare and he shakes his head, eyes flicking to his Cloud. “Visconti -”

“- I am going to _kill_ Sawada senior, and it’s going to be messy.”

“I’ll dispose of the body for you.”

“Gentlemen -”

“- sit still and let Coyote do his job, Timo. I want to see what happens when he’s stripped Sawada’s Flames from yours.” He blinks, but his Storm’s still lightning fast when he wants to be, moving so quickly - damnit, he knows how that trick works, but it doesn’t _stop_ it from working - that he can’t prevent him from pinning him to the chair, and surging in through their sixty-odd-year-old bond to scour his Flames clean of _every_ outside influence. He’s fairly sure he screams at some point; he hasn’t submitted to one of Coyote’s ‘cleansings’ for years. Not since the war ended and they’d managed to kill or suborn all the Flame Actives in the Italian government. “Still breathing? There’s a reason we used to do this weekly, so the residues didn’t build up -”

“Probably. I might need BrowNie Jr at the end of this conversation, though.” His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, like the morning after a formal dinner. But the rest of him feels so much lighter than he has since he’d fought with Xanxus. “I need a cognac. Or a coffee. I’m not sure which.”

“Tell me what happened when you cornered Xanxus in the Cradle, Timo.”

“He -”

“What did he do that was so bad you used zero-point, Boss? You saw what it did to people when Aunt Dany used it -”

“- didn’t I tell you at the time?”

“You did, Boss. Tell me what you remember _now_. I took _years_ of Sky and Mist residue off you, and at least some of it was fucking with your perceptions.” 

He hesitates, rubbing at his temples. “Xanxus was ranting about rats. I was trying to get him to slow down and explain. Iemitsu came in from the tunnels - I assume in response to the alarms - and Xanxus tried to shoot him for interrupting.”

“A verbal interruption, or -”

“- he came in swinging; I had to stop Xanxus from killing him.”

“Timo, Sawada was an adult Sky, your _field_ commander and damn near indestructible. If you were wearing Xanxus down, the boy was exhausted enough to be _willing_ to talk, and he was starting to make sense, why did you need to use the zero-point?”

“I … didn’t?”

“Xanxus was a pill like that. Like Aunt Tibby, he never could use his words properly unless he’d worked his Rage out.”

“Exactly. And your youngest had a street-kid’s honor, too.”

“I fucked up there.”

“Che. You might say that. We did tell you to tell him earlier; he was clearly a Vongola. Just not yours. You’ve been far too loyal to Rosa for that, even when she wasn't loyal to _you_.”

“Iemitsu came in swinging, Timo. Xanxus’s Guardians didn’t go berserk until after you froze him; every casualty prior to that point was either on my suspected rat list or would have wound up there sooner or later. Every. Single. One. Iemitsu arrived early, Timo, and he reacted wrong. He knows how Xanxus’s Rages work; he’s sparred against him enough times -”

“What are you saying, Visconti? That Iemitsu’s the real problem here?”

“He’s certainly not been part of the solution, Boss. If he had been, you’d still have four living sons, not one half-dead one. And we wouldn’t have had a rat problem to send Xan ballistic.”

“Nor would you be surprised that Reborn’s in Italy, Timo. Or be telling me that you talked to Basil last week, when he’s dead.”

His Intuition chimes loud and sharp, and it sends a spike of pain through his head. It’s clearest it’s been in _years_. “I’m not sure the boy is actually dead, Visconti? Did he get found, or -”

“- the car was obliterated; there were enough parts and DNA found for all three known occupants to be identified. It looked like Smoking Bomb’s work, and there was a contract when I went digging.”

He’s not used to his Intuition being this loud, and this clear. It rings, painfully sharp. “Truth. Not the whole truth, but _ow_. Did you have to strip _everything_ , Coyote?”

“Apparently I should have pinned you down a decade ago, Boss, and insisted we resume the practice.”

He sticks a finger up at Coyote. “My migraines are back. Thank you.” His Storm laughs at him.

“Welcome back, Boss. You wouldn’t have stuck a finger up at me last week. It would have been ‘beneath your dignity’.” Dignity already shot, he gives in and sticks his tongue out at Coyote. “And you need a new Lightning and a Rain. We can keep BrowNie’s kid if he’s willing to stay, but he needs more training, preferably from Shamal; he’s got his father’s flaws without forty years of experience to correct for them.” Coyote snorts. “He hasn’t got his knack for handling you, anyway. Pull in one of your favours with Shamal, Boss; there’s clearly something wrong beyond what we just fixed.”

He makes a face. “I can’t admit that sort of weakness, Coyote. BrowNie tried to persuade me to go in for tests back in March. The reasons stand.”

“Defrost Xanxus. Apologise to the kid and see if the Rings will accept him. If they don’t, apologise more. And I say that as someone that took a month to heal from putting his brats’ rampage down.” Visconti looks old. “You need to retire, Timo. We all do. And even if the Rings don’t accept Xanxus, we’ll still have Tsunayoshi and I’m sure your youngest will help to keep the peace - he’s still feared even after ten years out of sight.”

“I’ve already admitted he’s not mine, old friend.”

“You’ve got a parental bond to him, Boss. He’s your youngest; even the Rings would likely acknowledge that at this point, especially as he’s got some Vongola blood.” He makes a face. “I felt the cold spot when I was cleaning up. Right where your Flames are scarred from losing your boys.” 

“I’m not sure Xanxus will agree. But we may as well get this done. Even if it kills us. You need to teach Xanxus that cleanse as soon as possible, Coyote, even if I don’t survive this. It’s fallen out of favour, and he’s Stormy enough to pull it off.” His Cloud and Storm try to object, but he cuts them off with a gesture. “He’s been in the ice too long. I need to free him from it before I lose my bottle.”

Coyote and Visconti slide into position behind him as he exits the office; he can feel the two of them at his back, Flames choppy and unsettled, but he feels oddly serene as he traverses the lower levels of the Napoleonic fortification. Either he’d be dead before dawn, or he’d have his volatile youngest back and that would be a relief. At least from the cold that tugged at his scarred heart.

The Cradle being empty is almost a relief and _definitely_ an anti-climax. Especially given the neatly scribed note where Xanxus should be. The handwriting the note is written in is spiky and angry, and while he’s not sure he blames the man for the emotion, he’s still confused as to why Reborn of all people stole his youngest son; after all, he’s supposed to be in Japan, teaching young Tsunayoshi …


	28. Party I - POV Dino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at mid August at this point - there've been a number of time-skips and I'm not sure I've made them all explicit - and Tsuna arrived in Sicily in early March, and 'fell' pregnant in mid-April. They're four months along, but showing for a whole variety of reasons, including general tininess and Shamal being involved to make this easy on them.

“Ready, koibito?”

“As I’ll ever be, anata.” His wife, radiant in a new furisode, beams at him. (It _had_ to be a new one. It had the swallows of their adopted family and the stallions of his, and it was _gorgeous_. He had no idea when they’d managed to get it commissioned.) “I mean it can’t be any worse than attending the Imperial Court with Kasumi-ba, right?”

“Don’t taunt Murphy, imouto-chan.” He blinks in surprise as Takeshi peels himself away from the wall, and he gets the full effect of the Rain’s chosen outfit for the evening. It’s stunning, and if he hadn’t had his pretty wife on his arm and hadn’t known that his Cloud was besotted, he might be tempted. The kimono was clearly by the same group of artisans as the ones who had made the furisode his wife had been wearing to greet him in Milan.

“… Dino-koi tells me I get to be armed. And that non-fatal wounds are considered minor reprimands.”

“Imouto-chan, if you’d _wanted_ to be armed at Court, we could have arranged it. There are some lovely tessen in the collection, and you knew how to use them.”

“Yes, but would I have been _allowed_ to hit anyone, ’Keshi?”

“Probably not. Kyōya would have hit them for you though. And he would have gotten away with it given his, uh, role.” His wife makes a face and her sibling. “Are you really showing that much already, imouto-chan, or are you wearing armor?” 

“Both, nii-san. Kasumi-ba sent her maternity obi for me with heika-ji’s blessing. Shamal’s checked though - it’s actually a good thing I’m showing, at least sort of? Part of it’s because you stole all the talls, Keshi-nii, but the other is that I’m carrying low.”

“That isn’t how it works, imouto-chan.“ Their Rain grins. ”We just both take after our mothers.”

“In more ways than one, given what you’re wearing, nii-san.” 

“I think I look good, don’t you?”

“I think you’re dressed to cause a fuss, ’Keshi.” He gives into temptation and tugs the back of his pretty wife’s obi until she steps back into his embrace; he’s careful not to crease the silk, but if he’s honest with himself he’s anxious about showing his bride off to the rest of the Underworld. “Is it for my benefit, or for Hayato’s? Because while you read male to me, ’Keshi-kun, our audience is going to read you as almost as female as they read me.”

“That’s the idea.” The Rain’s grin is a little fragile, and he wraps his Flames around him. “Everyone’s going to assume he’s the uke unless I make it quite clear he’s not.”

“Keshi -”

“Tsuna, you do remember why tou-san took you out of Nami-chuu, don’t you?” His wife shivers and he squeezes her gently, wrapping her in her Flames. “If Hayato’s got more than two inches of height on you, I’ll eat tou-san’s offal bin raw. After he’s prepared fugu.”

“And now you’re back to normal, ’Keshi-nii. Hayato’s at least 5’4” You’re just too tall for your own good.“ Kizuna feels thoroughly amused, her Flames rippling with it. ”And I doubt Hayato has a Mochida of his own. Have you been borrowing my intuition again?"

“You know I can’t actually do that.”

“Actually, you might be able to.” Shamal, still looking like himself - or at least his younger self - strolls up to the three of them, neatly dressed, and the man’s up to *something *. “Or you might have it naturally, and have forced it awake to protect your pretty Sky; sometimes Skies share traits with their Guardians, and sometimes fathers are not who the mother claims they are: you may have gained a touch of Giotto’s blood the old-fashioned way, Takeshi.”

“You’d know about that, pervert-Zio.” He feels Kizuna hold her breath and realises that given the direction Hayato’s entered the foyer from, he won’t see Takeshi until either he moves, or the Cloud circles the group to slot into the conversation. 

“How did you think I knew how much fun one could have in a bed with two Skies, brat?” That sounded like an interesting story. “Don’t worry. You haven’t got any living cousins from me; at least not ones who’d think to claim you. I slipped twice; both were resolved.” Their Cloud makes a tiny sound - his Flames are far more talkative; they thrash and boil, held a bare inch from Takeshi’s form - and goes very, very still. “Brat, just take what you want. You’re a Cloud, and he wants it.”

His wife giggles when their Cloud lunges and hauls their Rain into a kiss that scorches the air in the room. “I think you got one of the responses you were looking for, ’Keshi. And it’s a gorgeous suit, Hayato-kun. I _need_ to know who your tailor is for when I’m Tsuna -” their Guardians come up for air, and he rumbles an amused sound into his wife’s hair. “- you two can resume that later. If Shamal has approved Hayato for being adventurous.”

“Che. If the brat wants a cock up his ass, he just needs to use more lube than you do when fucking your husband, princess. Your brother’s a bit better endowed than you are, and my brat’s been too uptight to take it up the ass for the last few years.”

“I’m not _your_ brat.”

“That’s the bit you take from that, neko-koi?” Their Rain sounds amused. “I thought you’d be bristling at the idea of being the uke -”

“- except I know I’m not, and you’re clearly looking forward to fucking with people like our Skies, sword-idiot. Speaking of swords, do you have yours?”

“He comes when called. Tou-san could pull him the full length of Hokkaido; I can manage here to Palermo. Or I improvise. I’m strong enough to use a stick and still pull off Shigure Soen Ryuu -” 

“- try not to demonstrate that skill where the Arcobaleno administrator might get wind of it. We’re getting close to pacifier swap over, and I’d hate to have to try to extract my brat’s favourite chew-toy from his grasp; you’d be no fun two foot tall.”

“I thought the Arcobaleno cycles were longer -”

“- unless Aria’s hidden a pregnancy since her menses started, there’s less than eighteen months left in this one. She’s not going to make thirty at the rate she’s fading.” He winces. “Just don’t take Reborn up on fighting any of his battles for him Cavallone. I did my research; he alternates the techniques he uses to trap his victims, and he hasn’t used the Battle Royale for a couple of hundred years.”

“On a lighter note, I believe we’ve got a formal dinner and ball to get to.” His wife’s Flames dance mischievously. “I have another debut to make. And my intuition says tonight should be interesting; it’s something to do with Xanxus, but I can’t tell what.”

“Che. Reborn’s a dramatic little menace at times.” Their Cloud pulls a face. “You know that Cavallone; you’ve been his victim of choice for a decade. Want to bet that he’s going to show off his new student around midnight?”

“He knows how to spin things to the Cosa Nostra, Hayato. If Xanxus appears, it’ll be by sun-down; that’s when the pasta’ll be served, and you know how gauche being any later would be.”

“Touché. I’ve been in northern europe for a few years, dodging my beloved older sister; their mythology favours midnight strongly enough to make the social capital involved in skipping the food worth spending.” 

“It might not _be_ Xanxus, though, Dino-koi. It might be something to do with Don Vongola or even my sperm donor. He’s just the Vongola I’m most familiar with.” He presses a kiss to the top of his wife’s head. “Are we take a limousine, koibito, or is one of our Mists transporting us?”

“Bono’s going to transport us, and Maria will pull us back again; we’d have had to leave two-and-a-half hours ago to drive. And it’ll be a nice show of power to go with the complete set of Guardians, anata. Even if one of us might have to go and retrieve Alyessa from the stable if she’s having a moment -” 

“Oi! I’m already here, just enjoying the show, Boss.” He raises an eye at their Lightning. “And okay, I was practising something ’Keshi taught me last week. I wanted to see if he was right about his Mamma being able to disappear from sight without using any Mist Flames.”

“- we’re going to be teasing Reno and Romario for weeks.”

“Che. Aren’t we still waiting for Chrome, too?”

“She’s gone ahead.”

“Who’s gone ahead?” The question comes from his Storm, standing in the doorway; the redhead looks ruffled and he snorts as he realises how Romario had corralled his most elusive Guardian to attend. Reno looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. “And ahead, where? What’s ’Maro conned me into now?”

“Ahead to the banquet hall, Reno. It’s one of those rare cases where we’re going to show off to the Underworld. Don’t worry; there are security measures in place. And given Kizuna and ’Keshi, you won’t be the centre of attention. I do need you there though -”

His Storm grumbles. “- Reno, if I’d warned you about tonight, I’d have had to spend a week hunting you through the mountains while you hid from me. Trust us, we wouldn’t have dragged you into this if it wasn’t necessary.” His Sun drapes himself over his Storm. “We’ve both got tomorrow and the weekend off. There’ll be plenty of time for an appropriate reward, once we’re all safely home again.”

“Fine. But I’m not armed.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t need it. I planned for the unarmed members of the party, sweetheart; your tux is armoured.” His Storm blushes and the diminutive, and his wife coos. “Reborn left you with a startle reflex that’ll deal with bullets; just take cover if they start flying.” Reno scowls, but ’Maro steals a kiss, and his Storm’s Flames feel calmer in the aftermath. “And he’s got a new victim; Reborn won’t be shooting at you anytime soon.” 

“He’ll be there?”

“We suspect he will be, but not until at least halfway through the dinner, and he won’t be focused on you.” He pauses, assessing who they had who could yank Reno out of the banquet hall. “If he does, we can arrange an ungraceful exit for you, Reno. Chrome’s attending with us, Bono’s lurking and several of the others will be on standby for speedy exits.” 

“Tell me first next time.”

“No more than two major Mafia events a year. As I promised, Reno. This is one, and the other will be our little Cavalluccio’s christening. Consider this your pre-warning.” He gestures at his pretty wife’s belly, and Reno laughs and shakes his head.

“Fine. I’ll consider myself pre-warned. I mean that should be peaceful, right?” 

“Well, it should be, but you may just have cursed us.” Romario’s pocket buzzes. “That’s our one-minute warning. Boss? Let’s make it easier on Bono -”

He blinks, and then spreads his Flames around the seven of them, making their Guardians shiver, and lean into him while they wait for Bono to drag them to their dinner. 


	29. Party II  - POV Reborn

“The hairs on the back of my neck are prickling, brat: I think it’s time to make a splash.”

“I thought we were going to wait for the fluffy one to pop and have me make my entry as the kid’s godfather.” His current student looks up from where he’s sprawled on one of the couches. “Do I want to know what the new plan is?”

“There’s a formal ball tonight. The first one that all of the major families have RSVP’d to this year. Pipsqueak-Dino’s going to be showing off his princess -” his bratty student waves a hand, and he shoots at him for the impatience; he’s gratified by the mid-air immolation of the round. The brat was getting _good_ at that trick. “- and little Timo’s going to be there and Iemitsu _won’t_ be. Everyone will be on their best behaviour -”

“- I don’t think crashing the party counts as being on our best behaviour.”

“Pfttt. If they didn’t think you were out of the country and/or on house arrest they’d have invited you, as evidenced by Idiotsu being invited despite him being ‘officially’ outside the Mafia.” He scrambles up onto the arm of the couch and Xanxus raises a sceptical eyebrow at him. “Your Rain’s going to be there anyway - he got two invites and accepted his cousin’s.”

“He’s playing with fucking fire, there.”

“He killed the old Don Superbi for cause and installed his cousin; he’s still balancing that particular scale, and this is part of that. He’s got to show that he’ll bend to his whims as opposed to vice-versa.” His student makes a rude gesture at him, and he retaliates with a Leon hammer to the brat’s head. “I think midnight will work nicely.”

“You’ve spent too much time outside of Italy, old man. Midnight might work for northern european mythology, but you’ll burn capital I don’t have if we miss the meal.”

“Then we’re going to have to get _creative_.”

“No. No, we’re not. Who’s hosting? There’s a reason Viper’s on retainer -”

“- you’re such a spoilsport.”

“Nonna beat basic protocol into my head, and if we’re going to bring my resurrection forward, trash, we need to conserve my capital to ride shit out. Have you even warned Cavallone about this?”

“Pipsqueak-Dino will manage.”

“Cavallone’s using this dinner to demonstrate he’s _married_ and expecting an heir. This is the sort of shit that causes _feuds_. I’d like to actually stay on speaking terms with my fucking cousin, trash.” He smacks the brat again, but Xanxus’s hand flashes out and blocks the blow. “Who guided Cavallone through the social side of inheriting? I’m betting it wasn’t you, was it, trash? I’m guessing you left that to his consigliere, sì?”

He answers with a trio of shots and the brat responses by rolling off the couch and throwing a ball of Wrath Flames. The room is half-destroyed when they both come up for air. “Your mouth is going to get you into trouble, brat. But yes, holding pipsqueak-Dino’s hand while he played Conté Cavallone was Romario’s job, not mine; he had the training.”

“Then fucking trust me. Nonna beat the rules into me, and I have to know them to break them as much as I do.” His student’s grin is almost shark-like. “Everyone thought the old man should give me a shot as heir before; you really think that was only because I’m a damn good killer?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“And the fact Zio Timoteo put _all_ of the fluff-ball’s training in your hands, with no one to supervise or cover for your weaknesses should have told everyone just how senile he was getting.” His student’s voice is harsh. “How did people miss him going round the bend?”

“I’m not sure they did, brat. There have been some interesting whispers in the independent bars in the past two or three weeks.” Xanxus raises an eyebrow at him. “Idiotsu seems to have fallen out of fashion, for starters.”

“Thank fuck.” He raises his own eyebrow. “I got the rundown on how you finish your training contracts, trash. If I’m going to need to finish the blond bastard off to ‘graduate’ it’s going to be easier if he’s already dumped his own reputation.” 

“He’s scrambling to put himself back in the picture; don’t be so confident he’ll _stay_ out of favour.”

“Tsch. If you help him just to make my life trickier, I’ll sic Viper on you, Reborn. Stick to what you’re good at.”

“To what I’m good at?”

“I’ve never recovered from an injury _this_ fast.” He raises an eyebrow. “Seriously. I was a malnourished, borderline Flame exhausted street-rat with broken bones when my mother handed me over to Zio Timoteo. The only reason I didn’t have exposure was my Flames. I know what state I woke up in. I know how long it took to recover when I was younger. I should still be half dead; you’re an asshole, Reborn, but you’re a fucking good physical trainer.”

“Then you can run a dozen laps of the Villa while I set your Mist on arranging things. Move fast, brat; I need my sniper rifle practise, and you need your ego punctured.” He snorts and peels himself up off the floor. “Do I need to blackmail someone to make you a tuxedo, or is there one in the Castle?”

“Like fuck I’m wearing a tux. Lussuria’ll have the current Varia uniform in my size buried somewhere in their suite; I’ll wear that. More armour in case the blond buffoon’s actually there.” He makes a sound that’s deliberately ambiguous, and shoots at the brat to make him start moving, and keeps shooting; Xanxus laughs and bolts, and Leon flows off his fedora in and into the form of a headset.

* * *

“Voooiii! What the fuck? I thought you were frozen, Boss -” his student’s Rain had a histrionic _gift_. He’d have to make sure it got a little polish next time he was using his bratty student as a target.

“Do I _look_ frozen, shitty-shark?” He twists his grip in his bratty student’s hair, a less than subtle rebuke about the swearing. “Now is someone going to find me a fucking seat? I RSVP’d.” He’s amused at the way people scurry around to make space for his student, and the way his Guardians emerge out of thin air to cluster around him. “I should have arrived just in time for the pasta, sì?”

“You have. You’re looking good, tigrino mio; after the little scare you gave me, I was worried.” His student freezes, and he twists his hand in the boy’s hair again, yanking on it until he shakes himself, and turns towards the speaker.

“As are you, padrino.” Xanxus manages to spit the words out with remarkable sincerity; maybe he’d have to give him some time to bugger his Rain senseless before they resumed training. “Your Guardians look like a better fit. Does it mean you took my advice?”

“Something like that, tigrino. Something like that.” His student is herded away from his old man, closer to where pipsqueak-Dino’s sat with his pretty bride (he’s glad he made the decision he did; the girl was radiant and clearly happy about her current state). As they pass the Superbi, their young Don elbows Squalo into joining their grouping, and he smirks, softly. A Cloud and a Lightning and the boy would be a perfect-if-eccentric Decimo for the Vongola.

Money changes hand at the Cavallone table, making him snicker. “What were you betting on, pipsqueak-Dino?” Heads twitch in his direction and his former student twitches, but straightens his spine and he notes that Dino’s completed his set, finally. He was amused that Takeshi was doing a fairly impressive job of mixing his gender markers for the audience, but perhaps with slightly less innate talent than his sister. He wouldn’t have figured the boy as the submissive, especially with Smoking Bomb as his top, but apparently his radar was broken.

“We were having fun with hyper intuition, sensei. Everyone put their guess as to what the chaos was going to be. Takeshi guessed you’d arrive after the insalata _and_ manage to be civil to your adoptive father. Reno thought you’d go straight for his throat. Hayato had ‘arrival at the stroke of midnight’, -” He snorts. “- there’s a few more bets, and still more money in the pool to pay out for those. I’m hoping that most of them won’t. But then you taught me that murphy is an asshole, didn’t you?”

“That I did.” Xanxus snickers, and he yanks the brat’s hair again. “Have Kizuna and Timoteo been introduced yet?”

“Everyone’s saving formal announcements for later. You can thank me for that later, Reborn; I suggested it when Kizuna got twitchy this morning.” He salutes the pair of smug Skies and Xanxus snorts. “When I talked to the hosts, and discovered Viper had been talking to them too, I suspected you might be here at some point tonight.”

“Which explains why they’ve set a table for us already. Going to let onto the fluffy one’s parentage, or just that you’re happily married and expecting, horse-trash?”

“At least for now, she’s an Asari.” His former- student’s grin is shark-like. “Timo is behaving himself, but. I have no desire to deal with Iemitsu trying to raid the Villa.”

“Tsch. If he does, yell. I owe him a pistol-whipping, and between us we’ve got more than enough Mists to allow me to join the party.”

“You know how that sounds -?”

“Oh yes. We’ll talk more later, sì?” His student nods, and sits at the magically produced table (Viper had definitely gotten to the host; the damn thing was perfectly laid with a matching central display to the other tables _and_ had a non-toddler high chair for him). He grumbles about the chair; he dislikes using them in front of the wider Mafia, but the food makes up for it. Mostly. It’s delicious.

Whoever set up the hall did so with _exquisite_ care; he tunes out the conversations at their table in favour of observing the room. His student had torn a strip off him for not being up to date with his politics, and he wanted to decide if the cranky brat was right. (Shit, the kid reminded him of Tiberia. Only woman who’d ever tried to dropkick him out of Sicily, and he adored her for it. Ten years licking his wounds in Milano had done him a world of good.)

The manners are, indeed, different. More formal and much less forgiving than he remembers; he sees three separate albeit minor stabbings over what has to be a verbal faux pas. Or one with the cutlery? Possibly both. Despite their reputations, his student and his Guardians match the unspoken register perfectly, and it shows; there’s a lot of not-so-sneaky staring at them, and the responses are mostly positive. (The audience can’t seem to decide whether Xanxus is more fascinating or the radiant foreign Sky glued to pipsqueak-Dino’s side, and the _very_ loud bun the two of them were baking.)

It’s a surprisingly entertaining way to work through the remaining courses of the meal. He’s actually almost surprised when the last dish is whisked away and the coffee is poured; the rhythm of the meal is unfamiliar, and he grumbles even as someone pours two shots of sambuca into his coffee. (Fuck he loves that no-one in the underworld reads him as a two-year-old.) He’s at least a little buzzed when the room seems to decide to move; his former student rises with a carefully judged lack of haste, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Precedent, ‘sensei’. Precedent. Cavallone goes first, then the new Don Superbi, and then us.”

“The Superbi outrank pipsqueak-Dino?”

“It depends on who asks. He’s wealthier, and with a larger Family, but he’s straddling both worlds and it means some of that’s concealed; Delphino’s making himself known in the Underworld at the minute.” His student’s Rain pours himself another cup of coffee. “He’s currently worryingly envious of the Horse. I’m honestly not sure whether he wants to fuck him or fight him.”

“Oh honey, your cousin wants to fuck the pretty stallion. Probably because he knows you submitted to him. It’s one of those weird vicarious things.” His student’s Sun grins, running their hands through their hair, and coaxing it back out of the complicated updo it had been forced into. “So just how much fun are we having, Boss-honey? I wasn’t expecting to be on stage tonight, but this girl is _always_ ready for a good time. Sex or murder; either would be fun.”

“If you can seduce the old man’s Sun, go for it; I want to know if he’s been bought by someone or he’s genuinely interested in stepping fully into his old man’s shoes.” 

“Ooooh. It’s good to have you back Boss-darling. Our pretty-shark only gives me people to murder, not shiny new conquests.”

“If he’s legit, no breaking him, Luss. I doubt my old man can find another half-competent Sun at his age.” His student’s Sun snickers. “You may find yourself having to stand double-duty if you kill the man and Zio Timo and I are genuinely reconciling, so be cautious, pervert.”

“So mean Boss-honey. But fair.” The Sun grins, Flames doing something tricky; their hair lengthens even further, and he blinks as between that and another couple of changes they go from androgynous to intensely feminine. “Speaking of potential traitors, Leviathan’s in the basement waiting for your judgement; we executed Ottavio, but couldn’t decide on his fate.”

Xanxus twitches, and the boy’s Rain scrubs his face. “Voooiii. I was going to explain that. Before the christening. But I was looking for more evidence on the idiot Lightning, and potential candidates to fill the gaps; the damn Rings mean you need at least stand-ins.”

“… oh I have a Cloud for Xanxus. One who’ll fit _right_ in. And I’m sure pisqueak-Dino might be able to find you a Lightning amongst his hidden collection.”

“Voooiii. Where did you find him a _Cloud_?!”

“Our turn, Boss-darling. Are we the Varia, or the Tenth Generation tonight? I think the maître d’ would like a hint -”

“- Decimo. Let the old man think what he will. It’s quite clear the fluff-ball is happily wedded, bedded and with foal. I’m all he has left, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

“Ooooh. This is going to be fun.” The Sun swishes their way (her way?) across the room and murmurs something in the maître d’s ear; he watches the man’s eyebrows rise, and then he nods and beckons them. He attempts to bounces up onto Xanxus’s shoulder as his student stands up, only to be thwarted by his Rain, and he snarls, and Leon starts to shift forms. 

“Voooiii. Idiot Sun! Put the fucking weapon away unless you want to sabotage the Boss. He knows how to do this shit, and I do, too. You on his shoulder sends the wrong fucking image.”

“Mou. If you make a second attempt to humiliate my Sky without there being a clear training objective, I will drain your bank accounts _dry_ , Reborn.” Mist Flames curl around him, and he makes an annoyed sound. “Behave, it goes away before dawn; fight it and I will charge you €100.000 euros every time it needs reinforcing.” The Flames curl around his companion, locking him in chameleon form, and Leon makes a disgruntled sound.

“The presumptive Vongola Heir! Xanxus di Varia and his Guardians -” he trails his student into the ballroom and watches the response to his entrance. It’s fascinating, and he’ll have to interrogate Viper later for the bits he missed. His student merges with the crowd, talking to people with subtle confidence and more discreet use of his Flames than he’d credited the boy with. His Rain has a surprisingly subtle touch; he’d have to interrogate him later. It unsettles him a little that he’s fallen for their riotous image, he thought he’d learned better than that.

“- and Don Vongola and his Guardians!” His old friend looks fragile. Exhausted. Different? His Flames are weaker, but cleaner, clearer than they’ve been in years. He leaves Xanxus to work the room - the boy’s far better at the politics of this than his reputation suggested - and circles the room to approach Timoteo. 

“What made you decide that my youngest was the answer to our contract, Reborn? You know what was intended -” 

“And good evening to you, too, Timoteo.” He jumps up onto the man’s absurdly young Sun’s shoulder, shameless using him to gain altitude. “My new student has better manners than you do, and I can’t persuade _him_ to stop using profanities.”

“Reborn -”

“I fulfilled the spirit of the contract, Timo. Iemitsu’s legitimate child would have drowned trying to become Decima.”

“Decima?!”

“Mmm. Perhaps your cognitive decline isn’t as severe as I thought. She’s doing very well in the alternate role I found for her, don’t you think?”

“He told me -”

“- Boss, given everything, perhaps thanking Reborn would be more appropriate.” Coyote’s voice sounds almost rueful. “He’s certainly done an excellent job of defrosting your youngest.”

“Pipsqueak-Dino helped with that.”

“Mmm. Given that you gave him little Tsunayoshi to fuck, I’m not surprised.” He twitches at the vulgarity from Visconti. “It’s not just a disguise though, is it?”

“No, no, it isn’t.” He makes a face. “I know what being regnant Donna cost both Tiberia and Daniela. The Mafia might be ready for another set of regnant Donnas, but _Kizuna_ wasn’t in a position to _be_ one of them. I couldn’t even peel the damn seal off her; she was too zen for me to use my bullets. The reason she _feels_ like a Sky right now is because Pipsqueak-Dino is being very generous and their bun is clearly Sky-natured, too; if she’s lucky, the seal will break when she gives birth.” He wasn’t going to get into the fluffy-ball’s intersex state, or their tendency to switch back and forth; he doesn’t want to have to explain what trying to force Tsunayoshi to be exclusively male would do to them. Better to present them as exclusively female until he can assess the change in attitude properly.

“We need to discuss this properly, Reborn. My office, tomorrow afternoon? Let Xanxus play with his Rain for a few hours unsupervised; they must have catching up to do.”

“They’ve already done that. The two of them are ridiculous.”

“I’m still convinced your tigrino’s Rain is actually a Rainy Cloud, or a Cloudy Rain. It’s the only thing that explains their relationship.” 

“If you’re right, then things are going to get amusingly explosive in laterSeptember; I have a candidate for Xanxus’s Cloud coming to Sicily to ‘meet’ him.” He grins, and Visconti makes a face. “Kyōya Hibari.”

“I’ll be out of the country, Timo. Perhaps helping settle my grandchildren into their first term at Harvard and reinforcing our treaties. The boy’s notorious, and I have no desire to have any more bones broken; they’re healing a little slowly at my age.” 

“Coward.” Visconti raises an eybrow at him, and flares his Flames, a reminder that the man was still the most powerful Cloud in Italy by a wide margin.

“Pragmatic. A skill it took me several decades to learn.” The Cloud shakes his head. “I would have thought wrangling the young Cavallone would have taught you that Clouds are capable of it. And would have taught you the value of excising that word from your vocabulary.” 

“It took him years to pick up his bisnonna’s bad habits.”

“So he _has_ kicked you off the Torre Faro. I did wonder why you went back for another PhD a few years ago.”

“In fairness, I had just gone on a bit of a shooting spree, and he had a number of traumatised new Flame users to tend to. But we’re not talking about pipsqueak-Dino. Your boy needs a surrogate, Timo. He’s not interested in doing things the traditional way, and he hasn’t found a female Guardian for his set, yet. Well, not unless Lussuria’s been hiding their gender under their act rather than owning it.”

“He’s just a particularly flamboyant feminello. There are some candidates out there; we’ll do some research.” Coyote’s voice sounds semi-rueful, and he reists the temptation to snicker; that sounded like experience speaking. It would be amusing to see if Lussuria could still seduce his perch with that knowledge out there. “I notice Levi isn’t with them -?”

“Given Squalo’s comment, I suspect someone suborned him, or his obsession got untenable. He’s certainly not one of Xanxus’s Guardians.” He shrugs. “I was going to blackmail pipsqueak-Dino into letting him meet some of the Lightnings he’s been hiding.”

“Cavallone’s hiding Lightnings -” he smirks and jumps off his perch’s shoulder, vanishing into the crowd - going under rather than over - before the Ninth generation can catch him. He spends the next few hours engaging in a certain amount of mischief; nothing severe enough to break the obivous truce, but enough to keep him entertained. (His student’s junior Mist and his Storm join him in his game eventually. Both look younger than he knows they are, and it’s clearly a guise for the evening. He’ll have to pin them down and ask for an explanation later.)


	30. Party III - POV Hayato

“Dance with me.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to ask you that, ‘Keshi? You’re wearing the ‘dress’ after all.” And a gorgeous dress it was too. Well, a kimono; he knew enough to identify that it wasn’t a dress, and was, in fact, expensive but normative male formal wear, but most of the other guests didn’t. 

“Yes, but they don’t need to know that I asked you. And I want to dance. Chrome’s perfectly capable of watching over Tsu-neko, and Romario’s been watching Dino’s back at these events for years. Indulge me?” He sighs and offers his sort-of-boyfriend his arm. Takeshi bounces and takes it, and he steers him through the crowd to the dance floor. The music shifts as they step onto it and their hosts had some amazing Mists to produce that effect, especially as the space was large enough for every couple in it to dance properly.

It takes him a moment to pick up the ‘flavour’ of the music, but once he has, Takeshi follows him easily, and he bites his cheek on the words he’s tempted to blurt out. As odd as it is to have a partner so much taller and broader than him, the Rain follows his lead perfectly - steps _flawless_ \- despite the geta he’s wearing. The music shifts, the transitions almost seamless, and they dance until they’re breathless, his partner clearly aroused, and oh. Oh. The Japanese considered ballroom dancing intimate, didn’t they?

He looks around the space and spots the room he’s looking for, and steers his boyfriend in that direction, tumbling Takeshi through the door and one of the open ones beyond it. He twists as they enter the room, slamming the door shut and Takeshi into it even as he drops to his knees, wanting the swordsman’s cock in his mouth _now_. “Hayato -?”

“I’m going to suck you off, Takeshi and then we’re going to go back to the ball and behave, and when we get back to the Villa, I’m going to fuck you so hard you need Romario’s help to _walk_ tomorrow.” The Rain shivers and he grins up at him. “Now get your cock out, or don’t curse when I take getting to it into my own hands.”

“Fuck. Hayato -“

“I’m waiting. Don’t you want me to suck you off?” 

“Oh, I do. But you’ll have to help me redress -“

“- happily.” Takeshi grins at him, and untucks and unwinds his obi, letting the silk of the kimono gape, and then drapes it around his shoulders; he shivers at the feel of the silk against his skin. “Aren’t you worried about ruining this, ‘Keshi?”

“It’s treated. And even if it wasn’t, it looks gorgeous against your skin, Hayato-koi.” Takeshi grins at him. “There are ties, on my hips; with the kimono still on, they’ll be easier for you to undo than me.” He slides his hands under the heavy silk of the kimono and gropes for the ties, and his boyfriend - definitely not _sort-of_ ; not with how eager he feels to fellate him - shivers under his touch. He finds the ribbons easily, and tugs them, the knots unravelling smoothly. The undergarment goes slack, and he shoves the fabric aside, almost screaming when he runs into yet another layer of material. “That one you can destroy, Hayato-koi. I’ll never get it back on again without stripping.” 

He shakes his head and lets his Storm slide into the fabric, eating away at it with exquisite care. He’s rewarded with his partner‘s cock, long and hard, and right there; he surrenders to temptation and kisses the tip of it, and then shows off one of his ill-gotten skills.

“Fuck. How -“ he chooses not to answer, preferring to shove Takeshi’s cock as far down his own throat as possible. His lover is surprisingly well-behaved, hands resting lightly in his hair, hips still, and he bobs his head, trying to make it clear with his body language that he wants Takeshi to fuck his mouth. That he _likes_ being used hard. 

But the damn Rain doesn’t get the message, and he growls and draws off Takeshi’s cock. “Sword-idiot, I _like_ being throat-fucked. I _like_ rough oral. I want to go back out there _sounding_ like I’ve been used hard. You’re having fun with the kimono; let me have this.” He swallows the Rain’s cock again before he’s tempted to say anything else, forcing it into his throat and Takeshi takes the hint, rocking into his mouth and he swallows and hums with pleasure, making the Rain groan and shove himself deeper into his mouth.

Takeshi isn’t as rough as he’d like, but he’s sure he’ll be able to persuade his boyfriend to push his limits later. “I’m going to cum -“

He hums in amusement at the warning, and swallows, and enjoys the way Takeshi’s cock pulses in his throat before pulling off him carefully, sucking hard to catch the last drops, and licking his lips before looking up at his boyfriend. “Gods. You taste good, ‘Keshi.”

Takeshi whines, and he allows his lips to curve into a grin. “You’re going to _kill_ me, Hayato-koi.”

“Oh, I doubt I’ll manage that. Now as much as I’m tempted to fuck you and take you back to the dancefloor with my cum dripping from your hole, I should probably wait until we’re home again.” He sits back on his heels. “Now how do we dress you back up again, ‘Keshi? Preferably with just enough ‘ruffle’ to make it clear what we’ve been in here doing?”

“Tie the tie on my right hip first. Left hip first is for corpses, and I have no desire to give my cute little imouto-chan nightmares about me dying for her.”

“If you die any time soon, I’ll find some way to resurrect you and then kill you for your idiocy.” Takeshi laughs, and he ties the other tie, settling the under kimono in place. “Is that sitting right, or do you need to rearrange it?”

“No, it’s good. Though Tsu-neko’s going to know what we were up to just by looking at me.”

“And she’ll know hearing me. Given everything, I doubt she’ll be more than mildly scandalised. I know she looked disappointed when I didn’t limp home from fighting with my itoko …”

“… should I be worried about him coming to Italy?”

“Gods no, Hayato-koi. He and I - we got on well, but there was no chemistry. We’d have made it work to protect Tsu-neko, but Reborn offered a better option. Kyōya will enjoy Xanxus. A lot.” Takeshi laughs. “A little too much for his tou-san’s tastes, I suspect, though his kaa-chan will be amused.”

“That’s going to be a car-crash.” He pushes up from his knees, and Takeshi pouts at him. “We still have a job to do. We won’t be the only couple to slide out for a quickie - that’s one of the reasons for these rooms - but this only works if we don’t try to spend the rest of the night in here hiding.” He snorts. “The combination of Clouds and crowded events is one of the other reason; people are going to half expect you to come out wearing bruises -“

“- and _that_ is why Clouds should have Electric playmates.” Takeshi tucks the heavy silk of the kimono back in place. “Can you wrap the obi around me? I had to get Chrome to help with me tying it the way I tied it.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. It’s one of the feminine markers that probably went over most people’s heads, Hayato-koi. Men wear their obi low, and women wear them higher.” He tugs the obi from around his neck, and wraps it around Takeshi’s waist, circling around behind him. He ties it before his boyfriend can say anything, making the bow big and obvious. “You get to explain to Tsu-neko any of the accidental implications of that knot, Hayato-koi.”

“It’s just like the one Kizuna wears around the Villa -“ he circles back around to steal another kiss from his boyfriend, and Takeshi dips him, “- on the days when she’s letting the Boss take the lead.” Takeshi flushes and shakes his head.

“I still don’t want to know where my adorable baby Sky-sibling learnt to tie _that_ knot. Just. Don’t kill anyone when they make assumptions about it -“ He raises an eyebrow at Takeshi who sighs, and shakes his head. “- it’s a whore’s knot, Hayato-koi. Admittedly, a _very_ high priced whore’s knot, but it has implications, especially the version she uses. I’d find walking in on the two of them less, um, embarrassing? I’d probably know less about their sexual preferences -“

“- I can retie it if you want.” Takeshi’s cheeks get even hotter. 

“I like it. I just -“ the swordsman waves his hands helplessly. “- I didn’t need to know exactly how much my little sister likes her husband’s cock.”

“Isn’t it better to know that, rather than discover she’s only doing her ‘duty’, ‘Keshi?” The Rain wriggles his shoulders in mild discomfort, but then shrugs in something that’s probably agreement. “Ready to go back out there? We need to circulate and listen to the gossip; I know you’ve done Court events, so you must have some idea of what’s expected.”

“Heika-oji-san’s Court is less cutthroat, I suspect. Even with oba-sama and Kyōya to make life interesting.”

“Is your aunt as cloudy as your cousin then?”

“Cloudier. She’s single Flamed; Kyōya’s a Misty Cloud. However, I’d only poke him about that if you want a fight. It’s an acquired secondary, and a touchy spot for him, even if he’s mostly gotten over it for Chrome’s sake.” Takeshi settles himself, his Flames vanishing back under his skin. It startles him a little to realise he hadn’t noticed their presence.

“You’re going to have to teach me that trick, sword-idiot.”

“Which trick?”

“You know which one.”

“Maa, maa. You’d need to have the right Flames.” He eyes the Rain, and then shakes his head, and spreads his right hand, showing off all five rings and their Flame reactive gems, lighting each in turn. Takeshi’s eyes widen, and then turn thoughtful. “I thought three was the most people tended to be able to manifest unless they were Skies or Mists?”

“Well, I’m neither, so I must just be a freak.”

“Koibito -“

“- it’s a sore spot.” He swallows. “It’s part of why the damage from Bianchi was so bad.” Takeshi drags him into a hug, and he whines, extinguishing his Flames before they can damage the heavy silk and then relaxing into the hug. “Idiot-Rain. Even I can tell your damn kimono is valuable, and Storm Flames are destructive.”

“You’re more important. And if I can’t fix it, Kasumi-ba’s sister-Mist is very, _very_ good at repairing things. Even Storm-damaged things.” Takeshi hugs him tighter and then releases him. “And we’ll talk about that later. I’ll teach you the trick I was using, too. It’s one of kaa-chan’s. You’ve figured out that you don’t have to use them in the prescribed ways, right?”

“It took me a while, but yes.” He flexes his fingers. “I doubt I’m as good at it as you are? You said the Flame you share with your kaa-chan is Lightning, so, um, you made it Hard to notice you were calming me?”

“Something like that. It’s a little trickier than that. But you should have enough Lightning for it.” Takeshi presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “More dancing, or back to our pretty Skies, Hayato-koi?”

“We should check on them then circulate. My old man is here, and I want to stick two fingers up at him.” His boyfriend laughs.

“You sure that’s a good idea, koibito?”

“I’m sure it isn’t, but I need to anyway. He’s marginally less likely to cause a scene here; he can’t afford the consequences, given I’m now Cavallone.” Takeshi uses his fingers to tip his chin up and steal another, deeper kiss. “Bianchi’s not here, so it’s safe enough. The poison cooking is from her mother’s side of the Family. The old man’s a latent Electric Sky as far as I can tell; he’s never gone Active though - not enough depth to the Falco bloodline to be born Active, and too well guarded to get close enough to death.” 

“Maa, maa. As long as you’re not planning to push him off that cliff now.”

“Pinky promise.” Takeshi raises an eyebrow, and then opens the door, collapsing his bubble of Cloud Flames. He leads the way back into the ballroom, spinning Takeshi out onto the floor and his boyfriend surrenders to him, body loose and easy, matching him perfectly. Kizuna and Dino are already on the floor, whirling through the steps of the Viennese Waltz with poise and grace, the two of them dazzling everyone around them. (And very little of that ‘dazzle’ is from their Flames; both have them neatly tucked under their skin, though given the very distinctive edge to their Don’s Flames, they were going to disappear into their suites for forty-eight hours or so once the event is done. Or Dino would snap and make use of the same rooms he’s just pleasured Takeshi in.)

He spins them both off the floor, and back into the main part of the room, and Takeshi steals another kiss from him. “So where is he? We should get this over and done with -“

“Knowing him, he’s on the other side of the room. His consiglieres won’t let him near the dancefloor any more after he got a little too insistent with Lussuria in high femme and nearly got his dick cut off for his idiocy. He really does need to stop allowing it to think for him.” Takeshi snorts in amusement. 

“Your old man’s got a death wish. I’ve met Lussuria. How did he not notice that, they were, well, _Lussuria_?! Their Flames are unmistakeable -“

“- you’ve only met Lussuria when they’re not in high femme mode. They were barely androgynous earlier. Believe me, they pass _spectacularly_ well when they want to. They just have no desire to do so most of the time. Pass, I mean. They don’t see why they should have to.” He tugs Takeshi through the crowd, lingering near Delphino Superbi for just look enough to see what the young Don was up to - not much; though amusingly his sister seemed to be the power behind the throne? Or at least the man’s left hand. And Mukuro was lurking to listen for more detail. (At least the two near-identical Mists _dressed_ differently. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask why Xanxus’s junior Mist was wearing a ball gown.)

He takes a deep breath and steps into the circle of men around his father, Cloud Flames drifting across his skin in a blatant ‘don’t fuck with me’ display. “Aquila?”

“You know I don’t like that name, padre.” Takeshi steps in close behind him, arms wrapping around his body, Rain Flames chasing the wisps of Cloud and making it clear why the other was with him. “I’ve been asking you to call me Hayato since before I ran away.”

“Hayato then. I don’t understand the issue. It’s just the same name in a different language.”

“It’s the same name in _Mama’s_ language.” His father makes a face. “You do realise that you really screwed up with Mama, don’t you padre? She was Shamal’s favourite niece and you _killed_ her. And given you don’t have enough of a sense of self-preservation to realise you’re hitting on the Varia Sun, how would you manage to avoid Shamal trying to kill you?” His father’s Hands stiffen, and the man waves them back. “I only came over to tell you two things. I’m disowning myself. I’m a Cavallone now. Specifically, the Tenth Cavallone _Cloud_. And if I see Bianchi again, especially if she hasn’t gotten her poison cooking under some sort of fucking control -“ both his father’s consiglieres bristle, “- I will shoot her before she can poison me or my Donna. Capische?”

“But she’s your sister -“

“- Shamal just had to repair my gut, and one run-in with her could result in my Donna miscarrying a much-wanted son. If she comes within poisoning range of either of us, she’s going to die. If she actively tries to poison _any_ Cavallone, they’ve been told to put her down and put her down _hard_.” He shoves his Flames past Takeshi’s, letting them manifest, and his father’s consiglieres flinch back from him. “If you want her to inherit the Family, then for gods’ sake, send her to look for the Shimon so she can learn how to control her Flames. She’s not learning how to do it here in Italy. If not, then I’d start looking for a cousin who can inherit pronto, or breed up some new brats, padre. Though you might want to let someone else choose their mother, given your current inability to choose sensible places to shove your dick.”

“Time to walk away koibito. I’m not sure you should be raising your blood pressure this high for anything not sexy?” He mumbles something, and Takeshi tugs him around to kiss him, slow and deep and blatant (and thoroughly fucking his carefully crafted gender signals in the process) and then draws him away from his father to the sounds of the man’s impotent outrage. “Come on. Let’s find either our Skies or Xanxus. You need to calm down.”

“I doubt talking to Xanxus will calm me down.”

“I’m sure it won’t, but he’ll probably enjoy giving you a good fight if you need it.” He snorts. His boyfriend had a point.

“We probably shouldn’t encourage those tendencies, Takeshi.”

“Mmm. Heika-oji-sama has rooms set aside for people to blow off steam by fighting.”

“And we have them for fucking. No sparring here, ‘Keshi.”

“… that sucks. I don’t want to fuck Squalo, but sparring with him would be soothing if I was as annoyed as you currently are. I know we can’t leave yet; it’s too early in the evening.”

“Che. We’ll go see if Xanxus is being amusing; our Skies are still dancing.” His boyfriend shakes his head, and drags him carefully towards the strongest and Stormiest source of Sky Flames in the room.

Xanxus’s Court is settled in one corner of the non-dancing area, Squalo sprawled on the bench, head in his Sky’s lap, the man’s hands running through the Rain’s hair. It’s clearly intended as part intimidation, part homophobe filter; given that despite being announced as the presumptive Decimo, they weren’t being swarmed or swamped, it was obviously working. 

“Voooiii! What do you want, brat?” 

“I wanted a fight, but Hayato-koi says we’re not allowed to do that here. Which is Stupid, because you and I sparring would be a pretty show for the looky-loos.” Squalo waves a lazy middle finger at him. 

“Not in the mood to do more than be pretty, shitty-sword-brat. Plus the colours some of the old farts turn when they see me like this are _priceless_. I’m not done with my fun yet.”

“Shishishishishi. The shark-peasant makes a very pretty princess for the Boss. The Prince has a tiara somewhere that should suit the Boss’s pretty Donna -“

“- you’re dicing with death, darling. You should know better than to screw with Squalo.” Chrome’s twin in his ridiculous ball gown drapes himself over Belphegor’s shoulder. “He fights dirty, and if the Boss is trying to breed him, he’ll get pissy as fuck if you land a hit -“

“Voooiii! That isn’t how biology works, brat! Don’t make me give you remedial sex-ed -“

“- I have Chrome-chan now. I bet I can make it work like that given time.” He shivers just a little, and Takeshi tugs him close and chins him gently. “Though maybe that’s getting a little too mad scientist?” Mukuro hums, clearly thinking out loud. “Bel-darling, would you mind fucking some sense into me?”

“Shishishishishi. You had to ask, princess?” The two of them vanish into thin air, and Squalo chuckles. 

“I have no idea how we’d manage the bloody-brat if we didn’t have a playmate for him, Boss.” Xanxus’s fingers still in his Rain’s hair and the swordsman whines at the back of his throat. “Voooiii. I was enjoying that, shitty-Boss!”

“I’ll resume when we’ve dealt with the fluffball’s Guardians, shark-trash.” Squalo pouts, but stays put. “The fluffy-hime seems to be thriving, and I doubt you need me to kill anyone, so what are you after, trash?”

Takeshi’s Flames still his tongue, and he narrows his eyes. “He’s just warned his old man that if his sister doesn’t stop poisoning people, she’s going to find herself _very_ dead. But he’s now a pissed off Cloud in need of blowing off steam. I’m used to there being sparring opportunities at formal events. It was the only way to get my itoko to show up.”

“And?”

“I’d dragged him over here because, from everything I’ve heard, you’re the best person in this room to throw a pissy Cloud at. Certainly, the hardest to permanently damage.” His boyfriend sounds amused. “I adore my pretty Cloud, but compared to my itoko, he’s a pussy cat; if you can’t handle him, you’ll struggle with Kyōya-nii.”

“Tsch. Carefully there, trash; he might snap and bite you instead of me.” Xanxus’s smile goes toothy. “And sparring is something we can get into if we really want to. Mammon knows me well enough to have set an arena up.”

“Maa, maa. If he bites me, he bites me. And if there’s space to play then, we should have a spar, too, senpai. I bet people will like to watch _that_.” 

“Voooiii. I don’t fuck multiple generations of the same family, even when I’m feeling slutty, shitty-brat.”

“I did say spar, not fuck.” Squalo sticks his tongue out at his boyfriend. “I mean I get sparring as flirting, at least now I have a Hayato, but I just want to use you as a gauge of my skill, senpai. I miss having a regular rotation of swordsmen to measure myself again.”

“Voooiii. We can do something about that. You might end up with ducklings, though.”

“Ducklings?” 

“There’s a new crop of baby swordsmen emerging amongst the younger cousins.” Squalo looks put upon, and he wants to giggle. “They’re a menace when I go home. Any chance I can ship them to your parents in Japan?”

“Maa, maa. Warn them first? It would probably amuse them.” Takeshi chins him again, softly. “So. Where’s that arena hidden? This one’s vibrating and I’d rather not find out he has explosive cooking the hard way …” He debates jabbing his boyfriend in the ribs, but their little adventure in the break-out rooms had demonstrated that the kimono was as much light armour as it was incredibly pretty and he has no desire to break his elbow.

“Mou. Use of the arena will cost you €5.000, payable immediately.” 

“I’m not carrying cash. Swiss bank account?” The Mist Arcobaleno looks vaguely put upon, and hands his boyfriend a blackberry that Takeshi inputs something into before it’s snatched back and the Mist makes a pleased sound, a door appearing _right_ next to the bench occupied by the Wrath and his Rain. Squalo sits up, still pouting, and Xanxus yanks him in for a kiss that’s filthy as fuck, hand tangled in the swordsman’s ridiculously long hair. 

“Tsch. I’m braiding this before we play. It’s _mine_.” The demand - surprisingly intimate - makes him squirm and watching Xanxus tightly braid the thigh-length hair and weave some sort of trap into it with remarkable expertise. “And you better give me a decent fight, little Cloud. I’ve healed enough you can take out your Rage on me.”

“Voooiii. Boss are you sure about this -“

“- shark-trash. Do you want me to _kick_ you around the fucking arena? I’m bored and blowing off steam appeals.” 

“Mammon, is there enough space for us to fight simultaneously?”

“Mou. There _can_ be if the conditions are right.” The Wrath rolls his eyes. 

“You’re on a retainer, Mist-mine.” Mammon actually sticks their tongue out at their Sky. “If there isn’t space, then I’ll kick _you_ around what there is.” The Mist sticks a finger up at their Sky, and vanishes with an audible ‘pop’, the door to the arena swinging open in the process.

Xanxus pulls his Rain to his feet and through the door; Takeshi pulls him after the pair. The arena that’s revealed is simple, sturdy, and large enough for them all to play; once they’re inside, it becomes clear that the Mist Arcobaleno _really_ knows what they’re doing. “You going to fight in that, ‘Keshi? I mean I know it’s armoured -“

“- Okaachama fights in her kimonos. Sewing is the family penance for not dodging, and it’ll make Squalo hesitate. I’m not beyond taking advantage of that hesitation.” Takeshi sounds vaguely amused at the idea. “Unless you want to watch me fight either naked or only in my nagajuban -“

He swallows his initial indignant comment and shakes his head. 

“Voooiii. If you’re going to give me a fight where’s your fucking sword, brat?”

“At home. But he knows how much fun you are, senpai, so I suspect if I call -“ his boyfriend lifts his hand and concentrates, Flames rippling weirdly “- he’ll come running.” Shigure Kintoki smacks into Takeshi’s hand, tsuka first, and his boyfriend smirks at him and then flicks his eyes to Squalo. “So where’s your blade?”

“Going to give me a decent fight, little Cloud? My shark tells me you’re proficient enough he’d have tried to sweep you up if not for your mentor’s unsubtle hints that he’d find himself impotent if he did.” Xanxus doesn’t have his pistols in his hands, and he tilts his head, curious. “Don’t worry. I don’t need anything to channel my Flames.” He shrugs and summons his explosives, trusting Mammon to contain the blasts.

They fight a running battle (he can see Xanxus isn’t at the top of his game; he’s clearly fighting as a Storm, not a Sky. He’s more than a little relieved; he’s improving in his sparring against Dino, but he isn’t at the Varia’s level yet) across the whole space, bouncing off and running up the walls - he surprises Xanxus when he does it the first time, but the Sky quickly changes gear to keep up. It’s _exhilarating_. 

“So childish.” 

He snarls, Flames curling around him, and lunges towards the intruder, and two waves of Rain Flames hit him. Hard. Before he can fight his way through the heavy lassitude, someone else steps up behind the intruder and smacks him, making a delightfully audible _crunch_.

“I disagree, Don Carlotto. My heir at play is a sight I will never grow tired of.” Don Vongola looks and feels different than the last time he’d met him. “And I assume, tigrino mio, that it is play, given the Cloud you were toying with is your senpai’s Guardian, ne?”

“Tsch. Your senses that messed up padrino?” The older Cloud behind Don Vongola bristles gently. “That was a wind-down for an irritated but non-murderous Cloud. If living with Visconti for sixty years hasn’t taught you the difference, you need a fucking intervention.”

“He’s in remedial ed, tigrino. We’re dealing with the problem, finally.” The older Cloud sounds thoroughly amused. “The idiot blond is at least partially at fault. Do you remember your lessons about things one shouldn’t do with your Sky Flames?”

“… did one of you forget to give the idiot the damn Free Will speech?”

“Something like that. Something like that, tigrino mio. Coyote almost killed me with a technique from when we were younger freeing me from him.” He slides aside, and Takeshi presses a finger to his lips. 

“Shh. I’m not sure they’re going to be happy if they realise we’re listening. Let me guide your Flames, koibito; it looks like we’ll be going for a crash course on that trick you were curious about.” Flames crawl over his skin, luring his out, and he squirms as his boyfriend presses against him, his erection evident even through the heavy fabric. The way Takeshi’s shaping his Flames feels strange until it suddenly _doesn’t_. It sort of clicks - it’s an entirely different way of looking at Flames - and he’s not entirely sure what the trick does, but Visconti’s eyes almost skitter over them both, like they’re not there.

“You might want to take the trash out, Zio Visconti. I think I’m done for the night; I’m more interested in fucking my Rain than socialising.”

“Voooiii. Shitty-Boss -“

“- don’t make me use my cock to shut you up, shark-trash.”

“You made a splash, tigrino mio. I think I can ride the fall-out and do something with the new order.” The old Sky shakes his head. “You might want to invite the new Don Superbi to a _friendly_ spar. He’s getting a little pushy. I’d have to pull out the big guns if I fight him, but I suspect you’ll find it easier.”

“Tsch. Squalo’s told me about him. He’s a brat that needs his ass spanked, but having met his father, I agree with my shark’s choice to kill the old Don.”

The older Sky sighs. “And that, tigrino mio, is why I was a little sceptical about letting you inherit, even before Idiotsu got to me. You’re a bloodthirsty brat. I wish Aunt Tibby had lived long enough to teach you the nuances of that Flame of yours.”

“Tsch. I’ve heard the stories of your exploits old man. You fool yourself if you think you’re not capable of being even more bloodthirsty than I am.” Xanxus pauses. “Something’s changed your mind.”

“Other than Coyote clearing out Iemitsu’s Flames? Your Rain has grown into his promise, and Reborn’s found you a very well connected and competent Cloud. I’ve met the boy; if you two and his pet Lightning mesh, he’ll provide you with the balance you need.” Xanxus makes a mildly rude gesture, and Don Vongola chuckles. “I take it you’re enjoying Reborn’s idea of training, tigrino mio?” Xanxus doubles down with a ruder gesture. “He’s an acquired taste. And I suspect you’ll need supplemental tuition; he was supposed to give little Tsunayoshi a foundation to build on, rather than apply polish.”

“Tsch. I’ll give the arcobaleno-trash this - he’s a damn good physical trainer and reconditioner.” Xanxus rolls his shoulders. “I doubt I’d be at more than twenty-five percent without him at this point, rather than being close to seventy-five percent. And yeah. I think I’m done. Mammon -?”

“Mou. The villa, Boss?”

“The villa. Work the rest of the event with Lussuria and our bloody brats. Give me a kill list and a suborn list, and send a copy to the old men, Mammon.” 

The Mist snaps their fingers theatrically, the room dissolving and he whines as the noise of the main room suddenly assaults him. “Chrome, get us out of here. Hayato’s melting.”

The world dissolves again, and he sighs in relief at the quiet. “How did you -?”

“I grew up alongside a _very_ Cloudy cousin, Hayato-kun. I learnt to see a meltdown coming. I learned to avert them too.” Takeshi chuckles. “I believe you promised me something, ne?”

“I did. You still willing?”

“You have to ask, koibito?” His boyfriend drags him into a kiss that’s deep and filthy in answer, and he sighs in relief, clinging to the taller male. “I cleaned up and prepared myself before we even went to dinner, pretty eyes.” He raises an eyebrow, and Takeshi flushes bright pink.

Oh. _Oh_. “Then I should help you undress?”

“Please. If you just lay the over-kimono over a chair, I’ll have to check it for damage tomorrow; I think I got slashed a couple of times by Squalo. He’s not used to flat blade sparring.” 

“Did he -“

“Gods, no. I know what sword wounds feel like. I’m going to have some bruising, but he was definitely paying more attention to his Sky and what state he was in, rather than to me. Which I got, so I didn’t push him.” He tilts his head up, and Takeshi kisses him again. “How about you? Xanxus was obviously pushing you hard -“

“Bruised, a little battered. In desperate need of one of the Fs. I want to kill the idiot that interrupted.” His boyfriend laughs and kisses him again.

“Of course you do. I think Don Vongola concussed him for you though, judging by the crunch; I wonder if the idiot even realised who he was yelling at.” Takeshi hugs him again. “You’ll have to untie my obi first. Trying to get me naked with it still firmly tied is a recipe for frustration.” 

He snorts and reaches around his boyfriend to tug the knot loose, unravelling the thick band of silk. He folds it carefully and puts it on the seat of the desk chair, and then takes the heavy silk over-kimono from Takeshi and drapes it over the chair. It’s much heavier than he’d imagined. “How the fuck do you fight in this?”

“It’s not as bad as my Court Kimono, and okaachama thinks you should be able to fight in _anything_. And has a willing accomplice in my itoko.” He snorts in amusement; the other Cloud was going to fit right into the Varia with that sort of attitude to life. “How does my nagajuban look?”

“There’s a small tear in it in the back of your right shoulder? I think that was when Squalo got gymnastic to keep up with you? I think he flipped over you and pulled the killing blow -“

“- yeah. That’s going to keep me occupied for a few days.” His boyfriend rolls his shoulders, and unties the ribbons on his hips, letting his under-kimono drift open. “Are you going to fuck me naked or dressed? I don’t mind either way -“

He scrambles to undress, and Takeshi makes an amused sound and shrugs the under-layer off. His Rain is delicious. All smooth skin and lean muscles and intricate tattoos, and _his_. “When you say prepared …?”

Takeshi grins and turns, and he swallows convulsively at what the evil-SoB reveals. It’s a purple-red plug, and he whines at the back of his throat. “I _prepared_. You could probably just slick your cock and shove it in -“

“- you are _evil_. I’m never going to see you in a kimono without thinking about what you’re wearing underneath it. Or not wearing. Or have done to your body.” 

“Mmm. I probably won’t add any more tattoos for a few years. These are just the traditional set for wielding Shigure Kintoki and my shishō-marks, Hayato-koi.”

“I meant the likelihood you were wearing a plug under your formal clothes, and you know it, brat.”

“I’m only being a brat because you like it, Hayato.” His boyfriend straightens up, and turns, and fuck, he should have stripped him and pinned him down to play with after their first spar. “Traditionally, we wear something for our Sky, too, but I haven’t figured everyone out yet, and the waitlist for the family’s artist is measured in years, not weeks.”

“You might want to take our Don with you when you next go. He’s got a taste for tattoos, too.” He undoes his belt, and shoves his pants off his hips, letting them thump to the ground, before stepping out of them. “Get your ass on the bed, ‘Keshi. You’re far too tall for me to fuck without a stool.”

“I’m sure we could figure something out. But later. Much later. I’ve been promised cock -“

“- serious question, ‘Keshi? Have you done this before?”

“Depends on your definitions. I’ve ridden faux-cocks until I’ve come hands-free, but I haven’t had a hot cock there yet.” He whines at the back of his throat, and his evil boyfriend laughs. “We’ll be fine, koibito. I promise.” He tumbles down onto the bed after his boyfriend and crawls up the tall-lunatic’s long frame, desperate to kiss him. Takeshi laughs, reaching up to pull him down into a filthy kiss that makes him whimper, hips rocking mindlessly against his partner’s belly. “I think this is going to be easiest if I roll over, ne?”

“Lube? This has to be your suite; there aren’t enough cats trying to get attention for it to be mine -“

“Under the pillow. And yes, I asked Chrome before we left to dump both of us in my rooms if we left early.” He fishes for the lube even as Takeshi wriggles over beneath him, clearly eager for them to get to the fucking. It’s a half-used tube, and he almost asks his boyfriend to show him how he fucks himself, but that could easily be a treat for later; instead, he slides down the bed and nudges Takeshi’s legs apart so he can tug at the base of the plug. Takeshi shivers and the plug ‘pops’ out easily, each ridge of the toy stretching his hole in turn and his cock throbs at the sight of it emerging from his boyfriend’s body.

“How the fuck were you moving so smoothly with that up your ass, ‘Keshi?”

“Practise?” He snorts. “It feels good, and I can selectively tranquilise nerves if I have to, to be honest.”

“Brat.” 

“As I said earlier: you like it.” He lays the toy on one of the towels - he can see his evil boyfriend was well prepared - and admires the tiny opening. It’s all slick and pink from the beads, and his cock twitches. “Finger me a bit? I need to pull the Flames out of a couple of nerves.” 

He shakes his head, amused, and slicks his fingers. Takeshi’s body swallows them easily, clearly accustomed to being pleasantly full and well pleasured. He’s up to four when his boyfriend shivers and clenches around them, and the idiot makes a satisfying squeak when he presses on his prostate. (The slick swollen sheath he’s playing with ripples around his fingers and his cock _throbs_. He shoves any anxiety about hurting the Rain into a tiny box; Takeshi clearly knew what he liked and what he liked in bed was cock. In his ass.)

“I want an introduction to your toy box at some point, Keshi. It’s clearly delightfully well stocked given the way your ass is willing to stretch for me. I bet I could make it swallow my entire hand, ne?”

“Probably. But I want your cock, Hayato-koi. I’ve been thinking about it for _weeks_. How good it’ll feel when you slide it into me -“ he whines and pulls his fingers out with a pop; he slicks his own cock, lines himself up and presses into his boyfriend’s pretty little hole. 

Takeshi slips into Japanese, babbling at high speed as he slowly sheathes himself; from the tone and the words he catches it’s a satisfied babble, so he finishes the movement, grinding himself into his boyfriend as deep as possible. “So, when you’re fucking yourself, ‘Keshi, do you like it slow and easy, or hard and fast?”

“Slow and easy, unless I’ve been teasing myself.”

“And you’ve been teasing yourself all evening, so I clearly need to do _this_ -“ he fucks his boyfriend with short, vicious thrusts, meticulously aimed and Takeshi keens, low and desperate at the back of his throat. A keen that’s soon followed by muscle quivers, and he whines as he realises his pretty, stupidly perfect boyfriend is actually multi-orgasmic. “How long did it take to teach yourself that skill?”

His lover mumbles something incomprehensible into the bedding, and he snorts and nudges his brat’s legs wider so he can admire the greedy hole he’s still plundering. It’s so needy and so very perfect in the way it grips his cock; he’s beginning to wonder why he’s been so hesitant to take what Takeshi’s been offering him since his arrival in Italy.

“Got another one in you, or can I take my pleasure now, pretty boy?”

“Record’s five. But too sensitive inside after three -“

“- that sounds like a challenge. Especially since your pretty little hole was so desperate to suck my hand in.”

Takeshi whines and buries his head in the pillows again, and he takes that as an invitation to chase his pleasure in his lover’s hole. Given how tight and hot and pleased with himself Takeshi is, it only takes him another half a dozen thrusts to spill inside the Rain. He greys out briefly, collapsing on top of his lover, and fuck, he really had been being an idiot.

“No, just justifiably wary.” He whines, and Takeshi tips him off his back, and he squeaks as he’s dragged under his boyfriend’s larger form. “I talked to your ji-chan. And I’ve grown up with a parent with a clear Cloud secondary, and an aunt and cousin who are both candidates to be the Cloud Arcobaleno, koibito. I was expecting that it might take months or even a year or more to lure you into bed. Having you demand to blow me tonight was a delightful surprise.”

“Sword-idiot -“ Takeshi snorts and nuzzles at him, making him flush. “- impossible-Rain. We should do something about body fluids, at least, before we crash?”

“Can’t you do something about that? I know everyone thought you were a Storm for years -“

“- yeah, but if you roll over, there’s going to be a mess.”

“Then don’t move and I won’t either.”

“ _’Keshi_.” His impossible idiot buries his face in his hair and starts to snore lightly, leaving the choice to him. He sighs and cleans them both up (he’d already demonstrated the fine control earlier that night) and drags blankets over both of them, and resigns himself to being pinned to the bed for a few hours …


	31. Incoming ... Cloud? - POV Kyōya

“Hn. Book me a flight to Sicily, Tetsu-kun.”

“A _civilian_ flight, Chairman? Are you sure I can’t ask your heika-ji-sama for the jet, Hibari-san? The herbivores’ flights will be crowded and loud -"

“- then the tenjō that taiyō-ji wants me to meet will have to be on his toes when I arrive, no?” His wakagashira sighs and flicks his tessen open, the ribs flickering with Lightning, and they dance for a few minutes, Tetsu matching him blow for blow. It soothes his Flames a little, but he hungers for a proper fight; perhaps he’d have to see if his ba-san and ji-san would indulge him. “Tsu-neko’s husband met them in Milan; perhaps that would be a reasonable compromise, Tetsu-kun?”

“- you won’t get to fight him in the airport, Chairman.”

“Hn. I have some self-control.”

“I love your delusions, inochi-sama. They’re so _entertaining_.” He swipes at his Lightning, and Tetsu slides back out of his reach, tessen sparking viciously. (There are days he regrets teaching his wakagashira to feed off his Flames, even if it had proved he was right to snarl every time someone tried to lure his Tetsu away.) “You’re yet to make it through a visit to Court without breaking _someone_.”

“Hn. And yet they’ve all deserved it.” His Lightning facepalms with one of his tessen, and he allows himself a vicious smirk. “Tsu-neko tells me that there are _many_ in need of discipline in Italy.”

“I’m sure there are. You are generally _very_ successful at finding people to discipline, inochi-sama.” He raises an eyebrow at his wakagashira. “And from everything I’ve researched, the tenjō-sama you’re to meet both understands the need for discipline, and will appreciate your attempts to apply it to him.”

“Hn?”

“His wakagashira visited while you were with heika-oji-sama last, Kyōya. Eiko-sama and Tsuyoshi-sama played with him that night; they had to borrow your cousin to put him back together again before they could finish the game they were playing. And if his wakagashira likes playing hard -”

“Then my Sky will likely enjoy playing harder still.”

* * *

“I am going to _bite_ you to _death_ Kusakabe Tetsuya.”

“You dislike doing your own paperwork too much for that to be an actual threat, Kyō-chama.” He glares at his Lightning, who politely conceals his amusement. “If you’d permitted me to arrange for your imouto to meet us at Milan, we could have avoided this rigmarole.” He _reaches_ for his tonfa, and his wakagashira smiles at him and smacks him with his tessen, shocking his muscles, and he settles back into his seat with a snarl. “If you’d allowed me to make arrangments, rather than insist on flying commercial, we could also have avoided most of this, especially as given what Romario-san’s told me, their strip can accept anything up to a 737 - providing it’s been appropriately modified.”

“Hn.”

“Given the rank that our ko-neko’s husband holds, it would surprise no one that his wife’s family were high enough ranking to warrant a private inter-continental jet.” He eyes his Lightning, and Tetsu bobs his head in acknowledgement that he’d continued his lecture rather than actually answering his ‘question’. He points at the seat opposite his day-bed with the tessen he was permitted when dressed up _this_ thoroughly. (He could still break people’s heads with it, but it took more effort than was worthwhile.)

Tetsu sits himself down in the jump-seat and pulls a plethora of paperwork from his portfolio, separating it into neat piles, all far too thick to have fitted in the slim document holder. He makes a face, and his Lightning’s Flames crackle, warningly.

“You need to know this information, Kyōya. And you _will_ read and digest it before we land, or I will stun you and present you to your new Sky like a princess ready for her defilement.” He snorts, and flicks his tessen in resigned amusement. Tetsu takes the surrender gracefully and pushes one of the smaller stacks of documents over. “Tsu-neko’s lord-husband sent detailed dossiers on your Sky and his established guardians, and their preferences on a multitude of subjects. Some of them are fairly detailed, some less so; your kiri-bā-sama’s file is thin, but given she is who she is, that shouldn’t surprise you.”

“Hn.” He picks up the first segment of the pile, intrigued by the photos paperclipped to the cover page. (Tsu-neko’s husband was thorough; he approved. He wasn’t sure that his potential Sky realised just how far inside his organisation his cousin’s lord-husband _was_ , though. He’d have to correct that.) He skims through them, making a small, undignified sound when he reaches the last photo in the set. Tetsu looks up, at the noise, but he allows his Flames to bleed into his eyes and his Lightning decides not to poke him. He checks the file of his potential Sky’s wakagashira, rifling through the photos and finding the identical - candid - photo. So either his kiri-bā-san was trying to entice him into joining their Sky’s set, or his Tsu-neko’s husband had a mischievous subordinate. Or both.

* * *

Milan is loud. Loud enough that his Flames flicker and flare, and Tetsu has to steady him, and perhaps his Lightning had had a point. A very small one, but still a point. He lets Tetsu lead him through the airport and through an ‘airlock’ into a private terminal. The world goes quiet, and he makes a sound that his Lightning resists the temptation to comment on. The waiting escort has less internal fortitude; the silver-blond with the ridiculously long hair, currently draped over one of the sofas, actually _snickers_.

“Voooiii! We could’ve sent the fucking jet, idiot-Cloud. What was that piece of masochism in aid of?!”

"I am the eldest son of the Nihon no Tenjō. There are _expectations_. If I am seen leaving the country, especially with my wakagashira and the appropriate accoutrement to study at a university overseas, there will be no expectations beyond the occasional appearance in the appropriate capital city.” The Cloudy-Rain - so close to being a Cloud it makes him want to set his teeth in the swordsman’s throat - eyes him thoughtfully.

“I’m missing something, but I’m sure it’ll slap me in the face later.” Tetsu’s Flames ripple in amusement. “The Boss sent me to collect you because the shitty-Arcobaleno broke one of his thigh bones yesterday in training. He’s flat on his back with our Sun and the old Cavallone Mist working out why it fractured so easily; the current suspicion is that it’s a zero-point complication.”

“Hn.” He tucks his Flames back beneath his skin, and the Rain glares at him. “I am my mother’s son, Spada d’Italia.” His lips curl in amusement. “And Viper’s nephew, too. I have learned the joys of controlling and acquiring information at their knees; I didn’t feel like beating around the bush to discover why I was being so insulted by my taiyō-ji’s choice of Sky for me.”

“Voooiii. I should make you fly cattle class to Sicily, shitty-Cloud.” He raises an eyebrow at the swordsman. “But as I’ve got no desire to cover up a second massacre this week, Miser, get us the fuck back to Sicily -” The Mist Flames are familiar, and he allows himself to be caught up in them, even as he vows to discipline the swordsman in front of him _thoroughly_ for insulting his kiri-bā-san.


	32. Greetings - POV Xanxus

“Voooiii.” His lips twitch and he leans back into his pile of pillows.

“Squalo-chan sounds rather put upon, Boss-darling.”

“Sent him to Milan to meet the fluffy one’s adopted cousin.”

“Ah.” Lussuria’s Flames fade and his Sun makes a face. “However tempting it may be to fight with and/or fuck the likely _exceedingly_ pretty Cloud you’re being handed on a silver platter, you need to stay in bed. Your bones are a mess; you’ve got at least another few weeks of bed rest and a calcium-rich diet. I think Shamal’s virus is _starting_ to do the trick, but it needs the right materials to work with.”

“Tsch. I’m being good, sun-trash.” He makes a face. “You might want to summon fluffy. The Cloud-brat’s going to want a fight or a cuddle, and her pregnancy is going to make it easier to persuade him to cuddle.”

“Good plan, Boss-darling. Most Clouds get weirdly squishy and sweet when it comes to baby Skies and the bun the fluffy one is baking is one _incredibly_ noisy baby Sky.” Lussuria tucks his blankets in more firmly and then flits out of the room; Lussuria's promptly replaced in his doorway by the Cloud in question. The Hibari-Cloud is one long cool drink of water that looks a hell of a lot like Alaude, but race-bent, and he _wants_.

“ _Herbivore_.” 

“I survived a decade in Sky-ice, trash. Most people didn’t last more than a few days according to Nonna’s notes. Of course, there are fucking complications; it doesn’t make me a fucking herbivore.”

“Hn.” He lobs a ball of (mostly) Sky Flames in the direction of the far too pretty Cloud, and the man shifts lazily, making it clear that - despite the layer upon layer of _exceedingly_ expensive silk he’s wearing - he’s a very well trained, very athletic individual. “How long to heal, Xanxus di Vongola?”

“Four-to-six weeks, probably.” The Cloud makes a face. “Your sister’s got a baby Cloud that needs biting, and my shark has a whole castle full of idiots that you’re welcome to gnaw on when you’re bored.” That gets him an amused look.

There’s a flare of Mist Flames in the corner of his bedroom, and almost before they resolve into people, there’s a soft: “Kyō-nii? Kyō-nii, why didn’t you _tell_ us you were coming to visit?”

“Hn -”

“So. What have you been doing to slow my virus down, brat? I modelled it before I injected you with it; it should already be finished.” He makes a rude gesture at the Mist and Shamal chuckles. “You’re a hundred years too young and in possession of too many fixated Clouds for me to risk taking a ride on your cock. It’s going to be fun to watch them figure out how they relate to each other; I think that Kyōya will make you a superb right-hand to Squalo’s left-hand. Squalo's been doing well, but he completely fails at putting civilians at their ease and that’s a skill you’ll need.” Mist Flames creep into his system, and then Shamal makes an ‘oh’ sound and makes a face.

“What did you fuck up, Mist-trash?”

“Something I really shouldn’t have fucked up given I did all of Tibera’s medical work … did you eat a lot of ‘out-of-date-food’ when you were still on the street, or do the Varia still indulge in their old hazing rituals?”

“Both.”

“Most Storms - and apparently Wraths - have an additional immune response involving their Flames. It _only_ kicks in if you’ve had a life-threatening infection or poisoning to prime it. That response is chewing up the virus that’s supposed to be fixing your bones. I’ll cook up a new variant over the weekend, and hopefully, that’ll speed shit up.”

“Xanxus?” Shamal slides back out of the way, and he allows the Mist to retreat.

“Yes, hime?” Cavallone’s tiny fluffy wife looks like she’s swallowed a watermelon whole - a very, very active watermelon with impossibly strong Flames - and he wonders what that says about what’s under her Seal.

“I should make formal introductions, right?”

“That would be useful, imouto.”

“Xanxus, meet Hibari Kyōya, Nihon no Kumo, heir presumptive to the Chrysanthemum throne. Kyō-nii, meet Xanxus di Vongola, Capo della Varia, heir apparent to the Vongola and Sky of one-third of the Tri-ni-sette.” He barely contains his surprise at the second title the fluffy-hime had given her adopted sibling. And oh - he’d forgotten that the Rings were part of the tri-ni-sette. He supposed that was definitely worth adding to his formal titles.

“Apparent?”

“They use their portion of the tri-ni-sette as part of their inheritance protocols; he’s wearing it and is still breathing, nii-san. Don Vongola would have to kill him to chose an alternate heir and even then, that portion of the tri-ni-sette doesn’t respond well to its wielders dying - especially by filicide.”

“She’s not kidding … though how did you know about that, fluffy-hime?”

“I can’t go riding anymore, so Dino’s keyed me into his archives. I’ve been chasing specific subjects like this -” she holds up the Cavallone Chatelaine, “- back through the journals. And it crossed over with the tri-ni-sette in the mid seventeen hundreds, so I went down that rabbit hole, too.” Kyōya (and he was going to hunt and _keep_ the pretty Cloud-trash when he could walk again) pulls the fluffy-trash into his arm, and she goes with a degree of willingness that he’s only seen her demonstrate with her Rain and her husband; he can see how they _could_ have been Sky and Cloud without his old man’s Stupidity. “… the Varia require language skills, right?”

“Base pay has a component with a language multiplier. I get twelve-x; our internal definition of a language is interesting.” The Cloud looks genuinely interested from his position wrapped around his adopted sister. “Were you looking for a specific one?”

“Old-Sicilianu and Siculo-Arabic.” He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, Dino’s got whole shelves of preserved journals written in a mix of church-latin, etruscan - I assume it is actually phonetic old-Scillianu as the etruscan dictionary I found isn’t helping - and siculo-arabic. And my rabbit hole is leading straight to them. Dino-koi’s got siculo-arabic, but nothing earlier, so I thought I’d _ask_.”

“Shark-trash?”

“Voooiii.” His Rain appears in the doorway, and he can see why he’d been hiding; Lussuria was clearly partway through fixing a black eye. “Yes, shitty-Boss?”

“I see our new Cloud bit you. You keeping the language database up-to-date?”

“Voooiii. Of course I am, shitty-Boss.” Kyōya’s lips twitch, and a fan that makes his intuition twitch drops into the Japanese Cloud’s hand. “We’ve got written-in-Etruscan Sicilianu as a pre-formatted ‘skill’ at the moment. Current language of choice for reports. Nearest anyone’s got to the Siculo-Arabic is Maltese, though, and that's written in Latin script.” The fluffy one pulls a face.

“I’d have to ask Dino if he’s willing to share the skill.”

“Mou. Trading languages is entirely standard Varia practise, mei-chan.” Viper settles onto his pillow, and he wraps his Sky around her reassuringly; something was causing her pacifier to play up. “I can also lock the ability to avoid your new rabbit hole being excavated out from under you; that too is standard practice. In return … I need you to make your resident Arcobaleno explain what’s _actually_ wrong with her side of the curse. She’s _bleeding_ over the rest of us. I suggest a trip to Mafia Island.” He redoubles the Flames he’s layered over his Mist, and she slides down the pillow, and he pulls her onto his chest; something about his choices makes his new Cloud’s Flames flicker and flare at the edge of his perceptions.

“I - I think you should come and meet my Dino-koi, Kyō-nii. He and Squalo spar regularly, and he’s been looking forward to your arrival in Sicily, I think. And Takeshi and Takeshi’s new lover are the cutest -” He almost protests the fluffy-hime’s theft of his new Cloud (he desperately wants to prove himself to Alaude’s lookalike), but right now he’s far more worried about his exhausted and clearly hurting Mist - he’s not ready to lose her to the damn Pacifier curse - so he lets them go, and concentrates on buffering Viper’s curse to the best of his ability; her drifting off to sleep on his chest is a _much_ appreciated reward.


	33. Reunion - POV Timoteo

“Bossu?”

“Send him in, Luss.”

“You sure, darling?” He’s amused by the Sun’s implicit offer to make him truly miserable in the name of Xanxus getting enough rest. His boy must have made it clear he wanted to see him non-verbally because he’s ushered into the bedroom; Xanxus in traction isn’t what he’d expected to see.

“What happened, tigrino mio?” His son looks thoroughly exhausted, and he waves Coyote off to wait in the sitting room of his son’s suite; he didn’t need the two of them sniping at each other right now.

“Ice complications.” He makes a _more_ gesture, and his son makes a face. “Reborn snapped one of my femurs in the middle of a training exercise and when Lussuria tried to heal it -” he winces.

“If I apologise again, tigrino, will it be accepted now I’m sane?” He means it; he can’t believe that he’d thought that leaving his son enclosed in Sky Ice for a decade was a _good_ idea. He holds a hand out, turning it over, and forming a ball of his Flames over his palm. He half expects his son to close his hand, extinguishing the offered Flame, but is relieved when, instead, Xanxus touches it.

The parental bond he’s been mourning _snaps_ back into place with brutal force. He can _feel_ Xanxus, not just the cold he’s been ignoring for a decade. (Sublimating. Iemitsu had a lot to atone for.)

“Thank you.” Xanxus sticks a finger up at him, but he can feel the bubbling amusement in his tiger cub’s Flames. “Visconti tells me you figured out how we’re _actually_ related tigrino. I’m curious; I know you called me Zio at the equinox dinner, Xanxus -”

“I know that you were Daniela’s nephew, Papa.” The honorific makes him smile, and he nods his head slightly; he’s never hidden that, but watching the Mafia’s mythology twist and fold itself has been entertaining. “We still don’t know _who_ my father actually is, but Mama was Daniela’s granddaughter.” He winces and crosses himself; his adopted mother was going to shoot himself somewhere uncomfortable. At least he hadn’t sent her back onto the streets; he’d found a safe refuge for her at one of the few nunneries on the Island that genuinely _cared_ for fallen women.

“So, cousins. But Zio for the generation difference.” Xanxus nods, and his own lips curve. “I see the Ring has settled on you properly, tigrino; did Reborn provoke the test?”

“Squalo actually.” He blinks, trying to put the pieces together; he knew Xanxus fought even spars with his Dying Will - his older boys had whined about his viciousness often enough - and his Guardians were cut from the same cloth, but he wouldn’t have thought one of them _could_ push him close enough to … “He bribed me into switching.” He facepalms and his son snickers. “Exactly. Who knew the frogs had the right of it?”

“Indeed.” He shakes his head. “Heirs, Xanxus.”

“Bribe the fluffy-hime to have a herd, and see if the Rings like one. Or let my junior Mist spend a few years being a mad scientist; he and fluffy’s Mist are identical apart from a third of a chromosome, and it’s giving him ideas. As far as we can tell their birth mother escaped their Family with her, thinking he was dead.”

“So Lussuria is male.”

“Lussuria is Lussuria, and I’m not sure what’s in their pants. But they’ve never expressed an interest in spawning, and I’m not going to ask. Leave that to people who enjoy it, Zio. I’m told it’s hard work, and having watched fluffy over the last few months I’m inclined to agree; she’s only doing so well because Cavallone’s ridiculously overpowered.”

“There is good reason to secure the bloodline, tigrino. I’m sure your senior Mist has explained about their curse, sì?”

“She has.” His eyes widen and Xanxus grins. “I interact with it regularly, Papa; all of the Arcobaleno are getting tired, especially as Aria’s being parsimonious with her Flames. I assume the Rings get more important the closer to turn-over we get?”

“Something like that. Mama - Daniela - said the Ring was exhausting for the year either side of the Fated Day.” His son does something peculiar with his Flames, and the Mist Arcobaleno is abruptly sat on his shoulder, looking at the intricate construct projecting from the Ring.

“I’ll have Shamal continue to store samples, just in case.” His son sounds thoroughly distracted. “Go downstairs and have lunch with my Guardians, Papa. Your Flames are fading, and I don’t want to have to worry about this eating them if we fuck up.”

“And it won’t eat _your_ Flames?”

“I’ve got Flames to burn and two Clouds, Papa. I’ll be fine. Shoo. The Cavallone are supplying the villa - something about fluffy-hime wanting to keep her cousin tractable - and one of us should enjoy the boar that’ll be for lunch. And as I’m on broth -” He reluctantly leaves his surviving child and the boy’s Mist to poke at the Vongola Ring; that had looked like a curse, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable given that he’d worn it for sixty years and Coyote’s cleanse had skipped right over it.

He knows the Villa well enough - it had been one Daniela had hidden him in from time to time during the war - to make his way down to the patio he suspects will be hosting lunch. Coyote follows silently at his back (he feels lopsided without Visconti, but his Cloud had held true to his word; he was currently in Boston, settling his granddaughters into their undergraduate dorms).

“Voooiii. Did you play nice with the Boss, old man?” His son’s Rain (and his Cloud was right, the boy clearly had something close to a dual Primary) looked significantly healthier than he had done for the past decade, and waves him to a seat at the table.

“I can feel him again.” Squalo’s eyes go wide, and he inclines his head. “His brothers knew he was adopted, but he was so clearly Vongola that he could have held the Rings _if_ he’d told me he wanted them. ” He smiles, shaking his head. “The men of the Underworld gossip like old women and I thought he knew better than to listen to them. While Enrico was my presumptive heir, he insisted on waiting until even Xanxus was old enough before touching the Rings; Iemitsu got him killed days beforehand.”

“Voooiii. That’s not what the journal said -”

“What language was the journal _in_ , Squalo?”

“… Tuscan.” The Rain smacks himself and Coyote snickers.

“Coyote, behave. I keep mine in Old Sicilianu - I always have, Squalo. If Xanxus still has the journal, we might be able to work out who was laying the trap; it clearly wasn’t Iemitsu on his own if the journal was in Tuscan.” The Rain across from him scowls and then sits up abruptly.

“Voooiii. You can behave around other Storms, Zio Coyote, right?” His Storm bristles and Squalo glares at him pointedly. “You’ve never played well with the Boss, and I _will_ kick you off the Torre Faro; Belphegor was mid-harmonisation when Xanxus was frozen, and it’s broken something in his head.” He presses his own Flames on Coyote, buffering and soothing his right hand’s Flames until the man’s secondary is just visible. “Voooiii. That explains so fucking much -”

“Can I stab the old men, shark-peasant?” He twitches; the undertone of the Flames that had just emerged from the patio doors was so achingly reminiscent of Tiberia’s Storm Guardian that it makes his heartache.

“Tzaphkiel?” The Storm’s Flames still abruptly, and Squalo looks almost like he’s been smacked with his namesake.

“How did you know that name, peasant?”

“I knew your grandfather and your family’s … customs. And as I was notified, Raziel was dead - presumably, at your hands - you must be Tzaphkiel, sì?” The Storm’s Flames lash, and Squalo blankets the child with his Rain. (Because if it was Tzaphkiel behind him, he was no more than fifteen or so.)

“’S. Prefer Belphegor, though.” His lips curve.

“Because sloth is your besetting sin, Tzaphkiel, or because you need to cultivate it? Your grandfather was like a hummingbird on meth most of the time he was in Sicily.” He leaves the question for Tzaphkiel to contemplate. “Have you met your Sky’s new Cloud?” Because the little Storm was definitely Xanxus’s.

“Shishishi. The Prince has, and the prince likes his hana-ouji; he threw the prince through a window when the prince stabbed him this morning.” Tzaphkiel grins and bounces up to the table, taking a seat next to Squalo, and he shakes his head, amused. “And the Lightning he brought with him is far more deferential and sane than Levi. He’s scaring the mooks though, senpai.”

“So Kyōya did bring his wakagashira with him. I did wonder if he would, or if he’d leave him in Japan to manage his estates.” Coyote sounds mildly amused. “The Eastern habit of pairing off Clouds and Lightnings has a lot to be said for it.”

“Voooiii. That explains a lot about why he’s so comparatively _mellow_. I thought his baby sister’s bun couldn’t be the whole explanation. Kusakabe does what - ground him?”

“And he likely organises him, and act as socialisation of last resort because he’ll barely notice if Kyōya throws him through the shoji.” Coyote actually sounds amused. “I believe his - Tetsu’s - mother fulfils much the same role for Kyōya’s mother.”

“She does.” The voice is deep, and its Italian is clearly Japanese-accented. “They share a bed sometimes, too, but she is Kasumi’s handmaiden, so that is acceptable. Little Chrome-hime likely naps with Kizuna-hime regularly.”

“Voooiii. I suspect she doesn’t do that very often right now. Kizuna’s thoroughly infatuated with riding her pony regularly.” A snicker runs around the table. “You’ve not walked into their Villa for a working breakfast. They’re fucking insatiable.”

The Japanese Lightning chuckles. “Then they’re just following their okaa-sama and oba-sama’s examples of how to behave when their lord-husbands are home; kaa-chan gets semi-regular eyefuls when Heika-Oji-sama is in Namimori.” The Lightning settles into the remaining seat at the table. “And the mooks need traumatising; they should at least be able to hold me off in trios, Arashi-kun. Quality would be able to face me solo without Kyōya boosting my Flames into the Arcobaleno-range.”

“Hana-ouji’s minion has a point, senpai.” Squalo looks vaguely put upon, and he bites his cheek and tastes the ragu that’s appeared in front of him. “If the Boss is going to be Decimo, we need to find _officers_ , not just competent minions.”

“We need to set a timetable for that, but perhaps we should wait for tigrino mio’s bones to heal, and his new Cloud and Lightning to settle into his Sky properly. I will open my archives and journals to Xanxus and to … Viper and Kyōya, sì?”

“Yes. I believe the rest of us will be rather ... busy.”


	34. Dominance Displays - POV Kizuna

“… I feel like I should tell the pair of you to behave.” Their husband and their Kyō-nii look up at them guiltily; Takeshi wraps himself around them and presses a hand to their belly. Their naughty little foal kicks their nii-san’s hand, and they sigh, resisting the urge to swat at Takeshi for waking their little one up. (All their Guardians were besotted with their little Cavalluccio, and they were _very_ much looking forward to the day when their interactions with their foal didn’t _also_ involve them getting kicked.) “But I doubt it’ll do much good, so I’m just going to enjoy the show.”

“Kyō-nii, Dino-sama regularly spars with Squalo.” Takeshi’s voice is distinctly mischievous, and they do swat him this time, because that was clearly intended to push the two of them into something more like an actual spar rather than the call and response kata the two of them had been engaging in. “Dino, Squalo’s new instructors have to tag-team Kyōya to have any chance of beating him. They still manage it _sometimes_ -”

“ _Keshi_!”

“They need to do this, Tsu-neko.” They make an indignant sound, and their Rain sighs and chins them gently. “Kyōya’s grown up, assuming that he would need to protect you, and he wants to be _sure_ that your lord-husband is more than capable of taking up the role in his place. Your husband needs to prove that to _himself_ , too. He and I spar regularly, but I think he spent too much time ‘playing’ with Squalo; he can’t take me seriously.” They hmph, and Takeshi tugs them over to the bench. “How _is_ your bun baking?”

“Slowly. I’m ready for him to be out, nii-san, but he needs a little longer to thrive rather than just _survive_. We’ve only just entered week twenty-eight. There’s still twelve to go. Shamal wants me to manage as much of that as I can. I’m threatening Dino-koi with his son being his Christmas present; he seems to be amused at the idea.” Their nii-san chuckles, and traces a fingertip - glowing pale blue - over their belly, and they sigh in relief as he coaxes their foal back to sleep again. “Shamal’s monitoring him carefully, to make sure we’re both going to stay as safe as we can.”

“Mmmm. Do we need to go spelunking in the cellars or shop in Milan for your nursery, otouto? If he could survive arriving now, then we should be prepared for him, sì?” They hadn’t even let themselves _think_ about the nursery. But ’Keshi was right: if their little Cavalluccio would survive if they gave birth to him _now_ , then they should have a nursery ready for his arrival, shouldn’t they?

“Yes. Yes, we should. I’d like to see if we can find the traditional nursery set, ’Keshi; given the Villa’s bones, and the chatelaine, they’ll probably help keep him safest.” They wince as their husband bounces back off a tree, whip abruptly wreathed in orange and his eyes alight. “Reassure me?”

“Kyō-nii can tell you love your Dino-koi, Tsu-neko. He won’t widow you. Nor will he leave Dino unable perform his conjugal duties; he wouldn’t enjoy your wrath if he did.” Romario settles on their other side, a warm, sunny, reassuring presence.

“Which is more mercy than Reborn showed him sometimes.” Romario sounds rueful. “I got very, very good at using my Flames to patch him up. And the nursery is already set up, Kizuna. Or at least the bones of it; it’s in stasis. You’ll probably want to redecorate, I suspect, though you might find its soft furnishings amusing.”

They eye Romario dubiously; given their previous experiences with rooms that had been put in stasis in the Villa, that suggested that the upholstery was likely _very_ dated. They had visions of orange fabric covered in brown stallion silhouettes, and they did not like them. “How bad?”

“Just as bad -” there was a loud crash as their husband hit another tree; Alyessa was going to be snarling at Dino-koi if he kept letting Kyōya use him to break mature trees, “- as you’re imagining. Dino’s mother refurbished it in the seventies, and didn’t have a chance to redo it.”

“Dino-koi?”

“Yes, koibito?”

“Viper-ba and Fon-ji both agree. Kyō-nii’s likely an Arcobaleno candidate. Stop holding back.” Their husband pulls a face. “If you can force a draw, anata, I’ll drag you into _the_ loose box.” They feel their husband’s Flames pooling, his Cloudy side ‘waking up’, and they grin wickedly as he throws himself back in the direction of their nii-san.

“That was evil, Tsu-neko.” They hum in agreement; it had been _meant_ to be evil. “Evil, but apparently motivating; did Dino really just pop Kyō-nii’s nose with his whip?” They nod, and lean forward, eager to see just what their husband was capable of when sufficiently motivated; the whip he was wielding was moving almost faster than they could follow without enhancing their vision.

It was such a _different_ way of fighting - in many ways, closest to Tetsu’s tessen-wielding, but just off _enough_ \- that Kyō-nii is making _genuine,_ unforced mistakes. They suspect Kyō-nii could still recover, but her nii-san chooses to block a whip-strike, and then drops his tonfa, allowing them to vanish back into his kimono sleeves, and bows, an elegant, formal gesture.

They enhance their hearing just in time to catch Kyō-nii’s words “You’ll do, aniki.” They blink; Heika-oji hadn’t been joking about the ability of Skies to bewitch and soothe grumpy Clouds when they put their minds to it.

“I’ll take Dino; you wrangle Kyōya?” Takeshi pulls a face at them. “… wrangling Kyō-nii means throwing him at his Sky these days, ’Keshi-nii.” Their Rain perks up. “I’m sure you can help him find Chrome so she can send him ‘home’, ne?”

Takeshi obligingly leads Kyōya off - they can feel them tracking Chrome _through_ their combined Sky - and Romario follows them down from the summer folly and across to where Dino was still standing, semi-dazed. (They’re not _worried_ ; it feels like Dying Will Mode drop, and they have a solution for _that_.)

“You did well, anata.” Dino wobbles and Romario catches him with Sun-flame covered hands. “Now let Romario check that Kyō-nii didn’t crack any of your ribs, because otherwise me dragging you into the loose stall will _hurt_.” Their husband whines and their senior Guardian taps his chin gently, in what was clearly meant to be a mild rebuke.

(Their husband had murmured confessions into their hair that had made them want to torment their father-in-law’s ghost. They were fairly sure they could persuade the chatelaine’s inhabitants to help.)

Dino submits, letting Romario run gentle hands over him - he pauses in at least three locations, the glow intensifying - and they memorise the locations. They had plans for their husband, and they would need to avoid puncturing one of his lungs.

“There are definitely _some_ benefits to your training with Reborn, Boss. I just wish they hadn’t come at such a cost.” Romario touches foreheads with Dino gently, breathing matching for a moment. It’s a gesture they recognise from working with horses, and it makes them want to coo.

(They can feel themselves sliding female, the sensation odd; their foal has made the transition from one state to another slower and more nuanced, more reliant on external stimuli to make it out of ‘neutral’. They’d spent a lot of time male to start with, but then as Shamal had coaxed their hormones into settling and had surreptitiously reinforced the placental barrier, they’d slipped back into their ‘proper’ self.)

“I know you do. But I don’t know I’d have survived without his help, ’Maro. I know you hate him, but -”

“I still think we’d have managed.” It has the flavour of an old argument; Romario releases her husband. She steps forward, extending a hand, and Dino’s big hand slides into hers. “Let me take your whip, Boss. I want to check it; you wrapped it around Kyōya’s spikes several times.”

“I’m due to make another one, ’Maro; there’s a hide that’s ready.”

“I’ll clear enough time for you to make two, Boss. You won’t have time to do it once your foal has arrived.” She snatches the whip out of her husband’s other hand and shoves it in Romario’s direction, making both men laugh at the implied rejoinder (that whip making wasn’t the only thing there’d be no time for, even if Shamal might be able to speed up recovery). —

“I’ll get the kitchens to plate your meals; there’s nothing in your diary until tomorrow afternoon.”

She beams at her husband’s consigliere and tows Dino with her towards their Cavalluccio’s conception place. (Dino doesn’t resist at _all_ ; her husband knows what’s good for him.)

“So how _would_ my husband like me, Dino-koi? Riding his big cock? Bent over for him to ream? … or would he prefer his wife to fuck _him_? The way he comes when I slide my clit into his ass is delightful -” She squeaks as she’s lifted and pressed into the wall of the loosebox, her husband’s height allowing him to ‘bend’ around her now oversized baby belly.

Dino kisses her desperately, hungrily, and she tangles her hands in his hair and thanks Inari for the fact she decided to forgo underwear that morning. Now how to - one of her husband’s big hands flexes, and she squeaks as he makes an intrigued sound and breaks their kiss. “Anyone would think I under-service you, koibito.”

She sticks out her tongue, and he laughs. “I’m pregnant; I’m allowed to have an over-clocked sex drive, anata.” He kisses her nose and puts her down just long enough for the two of them to wrangle her skirts and then he lifts her again and slides into her slit. (Shamal had been right; regular, enthusiastic sex and the hormones of pregnancy had made it _far_ easier to take her husband’s cock; she didn’t need any prep other than arousal now.)

“Hold onto the hook for me, koibito; throwing out my back satisfying us both would be … inconvenient, ne?” She laughs and pouts; their Cavalluccio did make certain favourite positions of theirs _much_ harder. She was actually beginning to rather look forward to delivering!

She locks her hands around the hook; Dino only makes her take some of her weight - they’ve experimented with this way of fucking, and know each other’s limits - and her husband fucks her with deliberate, steady strokes, using his Flames to add to the sensation. (Their hands are all occupied, and she can’t _quite_ cum from penetration alone. Anal or vaginal. But one or the other _plus_ her beloved husband’s Flames was more than enough, even without her clit being touched.)

“Close -” her husband leans in and kisses her, harsh and hungry, and she moans her pleasure into his mouth even as her pussy quivers and clenches around the thick cock stretching it so _very_ thoroughly. He holds her through it, his cock still inside her, waiting for her to ride it out.

“Again?”

“You have to ask, koibito?”

“I do.” He kisses the tip of her nose. “You’re doing all of the hard work right now, beautiful; I don’t want to presume.” She flushes, and he grins and resumes fucking her, his Flames surging through her system in the same pattern, rekindling her pleasure until it’s a roaring inferno.

Her husband joins her this time; the feel of his pleasure in her pussy is something she’s _very_ fond of. (The only sensation better, is, as Tsuna, to have Dino cum inside them during anal; it’s _rawer_.)

She lets go of the hook, stretching her shoulders, and then wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck as his cock slips free of her body (she takes a certain taboo pleasure in feeling her husband’s seed ooze from her opening; it’s deliciously wicked) and he laughs, kissing her again. She pouts when he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and pats her pussy clean, taking the time to wipe up her own thin pleasure, too.

“You’re cruel, husband mine.”

“My wife wounds me. Did you really want to drip your way up the marble staircase to our suites, beautiful?” She makes a face, and he taps her chin. “Precisely. No being mean to Romario, anata; him knowing we’re ravenous for each other is different from him having to clean up the mess, sì?”

She pouts and settles her skirts. “… shall we go and see what we’re getting for lunch, koibito?”


	35. Xanxus's B'day I - POV Tsuna

“Voooiii! Are you sure you’re supposed to be out and about, fluffy? You look like you’re about to pop!”

“… he’s going to be Dino-koi’s Christmas present, even if I have to cross my legs for the last month.” Their itoko (in a surprisingly affectionate public gesture for him that leaves them wondering about the Xanxus-Squalo-Kyōya dynamic) leans over Squalo’s shoulder, clearly putting some of his weight on the Rain.

“Hn. He looks willing to stay put, herbivore.” Squalo thwaps Kyōya with a suddenly appearing newspaper - the face their itoko makes is hysterical - and they laugh, and Dino looks up from his negotiations across the space the event is being held in. They flare their Flames softly in their agreed ‘we’re fine, we promise’ signal, and he returns his attention to his conversation. “And Shamal, his apprentice, Lussuria and my adorable baby sister are here, too, so his early arrival wouldn’t be _our_ problem.”

“Introduce me to Xanxus _publically_ , itoko? You’ve accepted that I’m Dino-koi’s … wife, now, but is he worthy of being introduced to me as _your_ Sky?”

Their cousin freezes and Squalo thwaps him again. “Voooiii. She’s not going to get into a fight with him over you, brat. And he goes all gooey for babies. It’s fucking weird.”

“Ara. That’s a Sky thing, at least according to Heika-oji. You can melt the grumpiest of Skies with a baby-Flame-User. It works quite well on Clouds too, as long as it’s actually a baby, rather than a toddler or child.” Their Mist's sounds thoroughly amused.

“I don’t know - you still work quite well on Kyō-nii, Chrome-chan.” Their Mist blushes. (Kyōya blushes, too, though it isn’t obvious unless one knows to look at his ears rather than his cheeks.) “His half-sisters melt him thoroughly, too.” Kyōya scowls at them. “If you don’t want me to tell Squalo your secrets, Kyō-nii, then you should take me to your Sky, ne?”

“You, little cousin-Sky, are a menace.”

They grin up at Kyōya. “You’ll be well-prepared for when heika-oji gives you a Sky-sibling, then, won’t you?”

“… have you been talking to haha-ue again?” They smile enigmatically. (They haven’t, but they’ve been suspicious for a while about Amane’s nature; they suspect that there’s a Sky secondary, or dual primary, hiding behind the Rain Kyo-nii’s youngest sister had been named for.) “Brat. This way; Xanxus is still recovering from needing his bones re-calcified.” The brat is decidedly affectionate, and they put it down to their onisan’s companions … rubbing off on him, and they smile, amused.

They follow their itoko across the room to the comfortable nook that the birthday boy has been set-up in; he’s no longer in traction, but there’s definitely still discomfort in his body language. “Tsch. You look like you’re about to pop, fluffy.” They giggle. Both at Squalo and Xanxus’s döppel-think, and at their itoko’s expression as he realises they’re on affectionate-nickname terms.

“Sorry, Kyō-nii. But he and I really haven’t been introduced _publically_ , yet.” Kyōya’s lips purse and they wonder if they’ve pushed him _slightly_ too far. “Protocol’s not quite as rigid as at heika-oji’s Court, _but_ -” Xanxus raises an eyebrow at them, clearly following their train of thought.

“Fine. My Sky, be introduced to my cousin, Asari no Kizuna, now wife to the Conté di Cavallone.” His choice of word for cousin is archaic, clearly intended to convey a relationship by treaty-alliance rather than blood and the introduction perfunctory in a way that would be rude if they hadn’t been teasing him, and his own rank. “Kizuna-chan, -” they pout at the feminine suffix, and Kyōya sighs, “Tsu-neko, be introduced to my Sky, Xanxus, Capo della Varia, heir apparent to the Vongola and Sky of one-third of the Tri-ni-sette.” Their cousin smiles. “He’s Viper-ba’s Sky, too. She’s doing a lot better now he’s defrosted.”

“Oba-san’s been hiding from me.” They pout theatrically.

“Mou.” Kyōya chokes as they sparkle at their Misty-aunt as she appears on Xanxus’s shoulder, and Xanxus makes an expression they’re not entirely sure how to read; the older Sky’s scarring makes the expression more … aggressive than intended, they suspect. “If you do not turn out to have a Mist secondary after the Cavalluccio’s birth, I will be nice to Reborn for a whole month, without charge, niece.” Viper looks genuinely amused, and they tilt their head in acknowledgement of the _value_ of the wager their aunt (the relationship was more complex than that, tangled in the Arcobaleno curse and Kyōya’s relationship with Fon) had just made. “Have you made plans to visit the Island, Kizuna?”

“I’m negotiating with Shamal, ba-chan; I don’t think he likes the Island much. Or someone on it? I did find something interesting in the journals, though.” The Mist’s body language suggests she’s genuinely curious. “I’m putting the pieces together, but there’s a clear description of the administrator and suggestions as to how to make oneself seem a flawed Sky scattered throughout the journals. Well, flawed is the wrong word; specialised might be better?”

“He does prefer those with a very clear Primary Flame.” Viper looks thoughtful, tapping her lip. “If you couldn’t induce a strong enough Secondary, shifting the pull of one’s Sky - and the Cavallone Flames often barely registers to most, Tsu-neko; I can only describe it as them reading equine rather than human - should be enough to put one off his radar.”

“- given the description is identical in the really early journals, I think he has to be a Mist to be so old?” Kyōya makes a noise at the back of his throat that has them looking up. “Yes, oni-san?”

“He’s in haha-ue’s archives, too. The ones she inherited as Ōu-sama no Kumo, not our family ones; they label him as a nogitsune for his illusions, so yes, he is probably a Mist.” They raise an eyebrow. “He has coppiced parts of heika-oji’s tree for his own purposes in the past but knows better than to touch the trunk.” Their cousin makes a face. “I suspect some of chichi-ue’s ancestors found offering him inconvenient Sky-cousins as sacrifices a little too useful to put serious effort into driving him out of Nihon or breaking the curse he’s under so he can rest.”

“Mou. If I did not respect your otou-sama as much as I do, Kyōya, I would make assumptions as to why he was so happy to know Tsu-neko was a Sky. As I _do_ respect the Chrysanthemum Sky, I will assume that he will be willing to take a stand when he is asked for a sacrifice, unlike his ancestors.” Kyōya gives their aunt a look that would make anyone else quail, but the Mist merely smiles. “We both know that you would be the Administrator’s first choice to wear the Cloud Pacifier, and he alternates between East and West for his Skies; existing bonds make his job easier, so she would be his choice for Sky.” They shudder, wrapping their hands around their bump, suddenly regretting bringing up the subject; their Misty aunt’s expression softens. “I doubt your foal is at risk, Tsu-neko; no Cavallone seems to have been taken as a sacrifice unless by accident. They also tend to be genuinely hard to track; Reborn had me try to find your husband on one of the occasions he escaped, and the only humanoid I find harder to track is the Administrator, Kawahira.”

“… accident?”

“I have my suspicions about Colonello. He’s Italian-American and has a touch of the horse-flavour your husband’s Family tends to carry.”

“Huh. I’ll have to check the immigration records.” They know what Viper-ba’s doing, but they can’t bring themselves to object. “Now tell me how you’re doing Xanxus-itoko; do we need to herd Shamal back in your direction for a few days, or are you just recuperating now?”

“Tsch. Shamal’s a fucking pervert, but he knows his medicine.” They tilt their head inquisitively; they’d thought it was only supposed to take days, but he was still clearly in pain. Their cousin relents. “Pervert said it was going to take time, given how bad it was. He fixed the heart of the issue, but said the rest would have to be au naturel; something to do with not wanting to fuck up my last growth spurt given it’s apparently about to begin.”

They squeak as they’re pulled into a hug (even if the Flames are familiar, they hadn’t quite expected such a public gesture). They swat at Takeshi’s arm where it’s draped across their bump. “Keshi -”

“- you’re my imouto, Tsu-neko. It’s an informal event. And cuddling you is stopping me coaxing Hayato in a dark corner and doing unspeakable things to him.”

“Voooiii. And there was me thinking you didn’t have your parents’ libido, brat.” Xanxus leans forward, snagging his Rain’s hair - which they’re amused to observe, seems to almost ‘jump’ into their Sky-cousin’s hand - and tugging on it gently until Squalo gives in and folds himself up to lean against Xanxus’s legs in prime petting position; the other Sky promptly undoes their braid and starts to play with his hair.

“Maa, maa. I just know better than to poach.” They swat their nii-san again, and their Rain makes a small sound. “Hayato’s all pretty and competent and Romario’s being smug and it’s not fair, imouto-chan. I just want to muss him up -”

“Voooiii. Yeah, Smoking Bomb’s grown up fucking pretty.” Takeshi’s arm tightens, and they giggle. “If you wanted a fight, brat, you just had to ask. It’s the Boss’s fucking birthday; of course, we’ve got space for it.”

“Later, shark-trash. You’re staying where you are unless it’s to fuck yourself on my cock.” Their cheekbones heat at the blunt demand; Squalo tilts his head back, a curve to his lips and clear affection between their Sky-cousin and his Right-Hand makes them smile.

“You heard the Boss, sword-brat. You’ll just have to keep draping yourself over your Sky until your chew toy is done being a good Right Hand.” Their foal wakes up, wriggling, and kicking at the hand on their belly, and they whine in frustration (and a certain amount of pain) as he proceeds to attempt an increasingly tricky roll once he’s said good morning to his favourite uncle. “That’s never going to stop being really fucking _weird_ to watch. If Belphegor leaves Mukuro unfucked long enough that our mini-Mist figures out genderswapping, then I’m not volunteering to be the girl, Boss.” Xanxus’s fingers still in their motions and the older swordsman pulls a face. “Voooiii. I may be an unrepentant bottom these days, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fucking woman, Boss.” Kyō-nii’s lips twitch; they were going to have to interrogate their oni-san later.

“Keshi, if you’re going to use me as a soother, could you _please_ calm your nephew down before my belly ends up bruised.” Their nii-san chuckles, and allows his Flames to pool, sinking through the silk of their gown and into their womb, making their foal still and return to his nap.


	36. Xanxus B'day II - POV Dino

It’s genuinely _odd_ having Hayato at his side rather than Romario, but his Sun is right; as much as having Romario with him is comforting, there’s an assumption that people are making - have been making for a while, if he’s honest - that he’s grown out of. An assumption that’s now causing more damage than it prevents. (He’s not sure when they reached the tipping point, but it was probably before Reborn delivered his very pretty wife into his hands, which meant it really needed remedying before they give birth. And Romario was making noises about guarding his heir for him, too.)

He’s picked his trio of targets (in the business sense) for their different attitudes to him, and to his Family, and as a test for Hayato; the Cloud is remarkably mellow for his Flame-type, but he needs to know where his limits are when a flicker of Flame won’t be an offence against omertà. (If he’s placing a bet, his human-Cloud will pass his little test with flying colours; his anger seems to be very _focused_. Providing his territory isn’t threatened; he does just fine.)

He’s not entirely comfortable about leaving his wife to wander the ballroom unattended, but they’re very clearly pregnant, and a Sky (even if they still couldn’t access their own Flames, they were getting better and better at using _his_ ) and everyone here is well aware of just how lethally devoted Guardians were to their Sky’s happiness. “Boss, the worst thing that’s actually likely to happen is Kizuna’s waters break, and there are at least four people capable of helping her through _that_ here. And as unlike as it is, anyone Stupid enough to threaten them is likely to find Takeshi has decapitated them - or Kyōya has concussed them - before anyone can tell either of them ‘no’.”

“That was only vaguely comforting, Hayato.”

“Xanxus will be amused; he’s a bloodthirsty brat.” His Cloud’s lips quirk. “It'd also be neater than Chrome taking offence, Boss. She’s been taking lessons from her clone.” He shudders; Mukuro had a handful of messy massacres to his name - he generally was paired off with Belphegor, who didn’t think executions were complete without viscera everywhere - and the idea of his Mist taking lessons from him was somewhat disturbing. “There’s a reason our Killing Mists like her so much despite how sweet she is.”

He shudders and then pastes on a sociable smile; he needs to talk to Don Fattore about the quality of the hay he’s been providing, and figure out whether it’s the Don playing games, or if he needs investment to improve his seed or equipment.

(He’s rather relieved when he discovers the problem is that the Fattore being sabotaged; he likes the older Don, and wouldn’t have been happy to discover it was neglect or under-investment. It would have been tricky to find an alternate supplier willing to keep the feed entirely organic, especially one _on_ Sicily and plugged into the Underworld enough to be able to guard against it being tampered with. He’ll have to make arrangements to have the culprits assassinated and to support the Fattore in rebuilding. He does admonish the Don a little; if he’d just only he’d _told_ him, they could have resolved this earlier!)

He takes his leave from the man and uses his Flames to briefly create a private bubble to interrogate his Cloud, and Hayato makes a face. “You caught the implications, then, too?”

“That someone’s realised how to push your buttons, Boss? I’m hoping they haven’t figured out that your herd are your _territory_ ; if they have, then it’s possible we’re looking at the opening shots of a _War_.”

“Precisely. And while we can do something about the actual saboteurs, we’re going to have to avoid stepping on Don Fattore’s toes or showing our hand too early; Kizuna would be unhappy if I had to be in the field while they’re giving birth.” Hayato’s shudder amuses him slightly. “Don’t worry. You’d be right there in the field with me; Romario or Chrome would be the ones left to mind the Villa and hold their hand. If the horses are the target, Alyessa will be right there with us, and Takeshi would pout if he wasn’t allowed in on the mayhem.” He taps his lip. “But that’s for later; we still have two more of Xanxus’s guests to talk to.”

“Delphino next, or Don Vescovi?”

“Delphino. He’s pushing limits. He _hates_ your father, and your great-uncle. Do _not_ react; I need to smack him down, but without causing him to lose face.” Hayato’s lips twitch.

“I like Lussuria’s analysis of the problem for Xanxus, personally, Boss.” He raises an eyebrow. “I quote: Oh honey, your cousin wants to fuck the pretty stallion. Probably because he knows you submitted to him. It’s one of those weird vicarious things.” Hayato’s lips curve. “He was responding to Squalo’s comment about Delphino’s attitude.”

“You have a photographic memory.”

Hayato shakes his head. “I can remember things I’ve heard perfectly, not things I’ve seen. Part of it is synesthesia, part training, part internal Flame use.” His Cloud’s smile is bittersweet. “I wanted to remember Mama’s music with my Dying Will.”

He doesn’t have a good response to that; he’s well aware of the story of Lavina Gokudera. Given how extra he’s learned his Cloud can be, he’s _really_ not surprised he both managed to fuck with his own brain somewhere between the ages of three and seven, and done so successfully.

Delphino Superbi is a little harder to pin down than Don Fattore; the latter had clearly wanted to clear the air with him, whereas the former was clearly trying to evade him. (Kizuna’s laugh distracts him for a moment, but it’s rapidly followed by the flutter of Flames they’ve agreed on to reassure each other.) He finally corners the Superbi don after a good ten minutes of playing cat and mouse; the man is evasive, and he snarls - or rather does the Flame equivalent - and immediately regrets it; he hadn’t expected the response he gets.

The Superbi Don was latent. More than that, he had no sign of having a Flame at all. Which made no sense; holding a Family like the Superbi together needed a strength of Will that almost _demanded_ that the Don be Flame Active. Either Delphino Superbi had mastered the Art of suppressing his own Flame (the idea of which made him _shudder_ ), was sealed in some way - Kizuna had appeared null when they first arrived in Italy - or, possibly, if he remembered correctly, Delphino’s Flame might be from the other Flame spectrum. The one to which Bianchi’s Flame belonged. It makes him twitch.

His eyes flick to his Cloud, whose Flames are flaring in very mild distress. “Go. Check-in on Kizuna; send Romario over, Hayato.”

Hayato vanishes, and Delphino lifts one _perfectly_ shaped eyebrow, interrogatively. “I should have remembered about Bianchi di Falco. Is it true you want her dead, Dino?”

“She has no self-control. And it should be a death sentence, but no; it’s only a kill-on-sight if she approaches my wife or my Cloud, or if she _physically_ threatens a member of my Familia. If you want her as one of your Guardians though, Delphino, she needs to stay out of Siracusa and out of my territory - or demonstrate you have her on a leash that’s substantial enough to make her behave.” The Superbi’s lips twitch. “So are you the anomaly, or is Squalo?”

“… I am. There’s a couple of us in any given generation; we have three of the variants that pop up regularly. The Falco produce one of the others regularly. We did some gene-testing; we think there’s an inhibitor/activator gene that decides which form our Flames take.” Delphino’s mouth snaps shut, and he grins.

“Sorry. I was curious and Kizuna’s researching something tangential. And frankly, you're being a pain in the ass, Delphino. A little information evens the scales. And really; if you’re looking into genetics as a cause, why didn’t you approach Shamal?”

“… because he’s _Cavallone_. Even if everyone else forgets; he should have been my great-uncle’s, not Tiberia’s.” He raises an eyebrow. “He had the only Mist-equivalent Flame in their generation. He should have been Antonio’s; Tiberia had a dozen Mists to choose between.” He pinches his nose; Romario brushes against his Flames gently, a reminder to keep his temper.

“Bonds are _intimate_ and jealousy is unbecoming.” His lips quirk. “We still haven't figured out _exactly_ what Wrath is composed of; have you considered that Shamal’s Mist-equivalent is part of what made him so attractive to my bisnonna?” Delphino makes a face. “My youngest Sky has managed to form a combat-bond with a dual-spectrum’d Rain.” Anger flickers across the Superbi Don’s face. “We’re not sure what his ‘other’ Flame is; attempt to poach him from her, and I will _crush_ you.”

“Boss, you’re getting Cloudy on us; wind it in before you set Kizuna off, too.” Romario’s voice is soft, carried more on his Flames that audibly, and he compresses his Rage into a tight little ball and fences it off from his pretty wife; Shamal had been quite clear about the risks Rage presented with their blown open bond. (And to a lesser extent his secondary; Shamal was fairly sure they wouldn’t be a Cloudy Sky, too.)

“… you know, Delphino, Xanxus’s Guardians think that what you _want_ to do is fuck me, as some sort of weird demonstration of your dominance over Squalo. Something about how he cleared the way for you to inherit, sí?”

Delphino shudders, almost theatrically. “… I obviously need to clear the air with Squalo and the Vongola Heir. If nothing else, Cavallone, I’m hopelessly straight; if Enhydra’s Sky was of age, I might have proposed an arrangement, but as she’s not, I won’t. But you’ve given me something to consider; I hadn’t even thought about what effect being dual spectrum’d _might_ have on what someone might need, want or choose.”

“Mmm. In the meantime, given that I now have three well-established Flame Active species on my lands, Delphino; I would suggest the incursions stop before someone gets eaten, sì? I would prefer the horses to stay herbivorous.” Delphino’s expression says he hadn’t been aware of the incursions; hopefully having an internal Family matter to focus on would keep things calm on _that_ front, at least until the New Year.

He steps back from their conversation, allowing Delphino to slip away (the man makes a bee-line for Xanxus, which tempts him to go and eavesdrop; Takeshi and Kizuna are still there, though, so he’s fairly sure he’s going to get a rundown of what gets said), and turns to scan the ballroom for his last target (and for his Cloud; they still had one discussion to have). He finds Hayato ‘observing’ his final choice; his Cloud has more than mastered the Lightning trick that Takeshi had showed them all and he doubts the man realises he’s under such close observation.

He flickers his Flames, and Hayato steps away, dropping the non-illusion, and he lifts an eyebrow. “I think you might want to wait to talk to Vescovi, Boss; I think we need to set Chrome’s minions on them.”

“… setting the Killing Mists on them would be a declaration of War.” Hayato makes a face at him. His lips twitch. “You’re sure?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure they’re Don Fattore’s saboteurs. And I meant the Coin Mists, Boss. Your intuition obviously agrees if you jumped to the Killing Mists, though.” He sighs and rubs his temple.

“Fine. Go and tell her what you heard and set them in motion. I’m going to go and ground myself on Kizuna; it’s getting harder and harder to let them out of my sight. I think my territory is either expanding or shifting, and it’s not a comfortable sensation.” His Cloud salutes and drifts off, and it’s only their shared Flame that allows him to track Hayato. (Who is clearly working on his own ‘invisibility’ trick as a form of one-upmanship; he suspects a competition with Kyōya. He’d have to ensure that Hayato wasn’t feeling jealous; Kyōya and Kizuna had a strong sibling relationship, and it was a good sign for his Alliance with Xanxus.)

He tugs gently on his bond to his wife, and Kizuna detaches themself from Xanxus’s circle, and he tucks himself into a quiet corner to wait for them to join him. It doesn’t take them very long. He holds out his arms to them, and they bury themself in his chest, and he breaths, feeling instantly calmer.

“Anata?”

“Someone’s trying to target the horses to rile me. They were using Delphino’s jealousy as cover to make me think it was the Superbi.”

“Ah. Do we need to excuse ourselves, anata? I can pretend to have had a couple of Braxton-Hicks if you need to check on the herd and vent in private -” he makes a small, amused sound.

“Do you think we could get away with it? It would make me feel better to check in with Alyessa, Stella and Nuvola and then cuddle you for a few hours.”

“I wouldn’t offer if we couldn’t, anata. We’ve made a good showing, and I look far closer to ‘popping’ than I am. No one is going to take it as an insult, and if they do, Kyōya will get narrow-eyed and terrifying. He’s shifted his territory recently, so he’ll understand the minor subterfuge.” His clever wife flickers her Flames, and then there’s Mist Flames, and a slow moment while Chrome works them past Mammon’s barriers (they have permission; he wouldn’t want any of his Mists to try forcing themselves past it) and then they’re back in the Villa. “Go. Check on them, anata. I’m going to put something more comfortable on; join me when you’re done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A 100K celebration: If there's a unwritten scene in Omiai you'd particularly like an omake-of/sneak-peak-at, leave it in the comments and I'll see what I can do.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who needs it, a gloss of Japanese and Italian words used:
> 
> <https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Oj7Slij1YUZBtw9VVjQIn8ikSIuXeC5YkLSfQ3TweQM/edit?usp=sharing>


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